


Snowdrift

by thornmarch, vanitaslaughing



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-25
Updated: 2015-11-25
Packaged: 2018-04-17 05:24:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 60,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4653963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thornmarch/pseuds/thornmarch, https://archiveofourown.org/users/vanitaslaughing/pseuds/vanitaslaughing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A hyperfocused spell, fuelled by an ancient relic almost bursting with aether as well as a single, desperate plea. An exchange is made, the wheels of fate stopped - at the exchange for energy, and lots of it.</p><p>But while a simple solution to the occurring problem is found, the wheels of fate slowly but steadily start turning again in the background. There's a dragon and another solution to be found, but... what then? Fate ever hates being cheated, and three Warriors of Light do not necessarily mean the story will end well if fate decides it had enough.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Herbstwind

**Author's Note:**

> chapter title: Wind in Autumn; gold-red colours, wind can be blocked, stopped

The day they formally met had been a snowy one. At least, by post-Calamity Central Coerthan standards, it had just been a little snowfall.

The way they had managed to plough a way through the Stone Vigil to reach the remains of the Enterprise had impressed everyone at Camp Dragonhead, and she could swear she heard the man mutter a “I never doubted they’d manage this after already managing to keep you safe” to his friend.

Even though most of these Scions of the Seventh Dawn were not used to snow and cold temperatures, they came back to the brilliantly white settlement more often than they would admit they had. Just being treated with Coerthan food and getting to watch the busy daily works at the camp was enough to calm them down after particularly long fights against primals, remainders of the Garlean army they had scattered, or anything else like that. And with them having moved to Mor Dhona, Camp Dragonhead was quite literally just half a day away, not counting the possibility to teleport there.

The day they arrived at Camp Dragonhead exhausted beyond belief had also been a snowy one – and even by post-Calamity Coerthan standards, this was not a good sign. Half dead from betrayal and heartbreak they had gathered around the fire they had been offered, every single one a new sight of pity to behold. They sat there and did not speak even a single word.

Healing takes time, and could not come in bursts. It was a basic thing every single fighter learned. Conjurers, Astrologians, Scholars and even White Mages were simply doing their duty patching up injuries, but the old days of them bringing people back from the brink of death were long gone.

“Long gone” was not a rule that seemed to apply to Warriors of Light, even if the light’s blessing had been shrouded in darkness around them. All it took was a hyperfocused prayer of some sort, and a Warrior of Light could bend the laws of Eorzea to their will – not even Ascians were able to withstand them if they were capable of controlling sufficient amounts of energy around them. An ancient relic, drenched in such large quantities of aether, that even a step against fate like that would not empty its resources, was all that was needed, and unknowingly one of the people on top of the Vault had exactly this kind of thing with them – though, granted, they had no idea it could be used in such blasphemous ways by a person not even related to their order.

Every healing spell comes with a price that the healer has to pay. Normally, not exceeding their natural ability, they were left with headaches and dizziness. Exceeding their limits usually left them nauseous and unable to cast any more spells for a day or two, but then allowed them to cast again. Drawing energy from an ancient dragon’s eye however…

It was a flash of panic, nothing more. She was a healer, and so her first reaction after seeing this was “heal, you fool”. It was her fault all of this had happened.

Nemi Sakuya’s blind side was normally not important whenever they were fighting. She was a healer, she stayed behind her friends and allies and hurled spells out and kept them safe. But now, in that blind dash towards the Archbishop along with her fellow Warriors of Light and Haurchefant, the blind side came back with a vengeance. She didn’t (couldn’t) see the attack hurled at her, but the man, who moved slower than the agile dragoon, ninja, and scholar, did.

The shattered shield and the blood everywhere was enough to drive Nemi almost towards her breaking point, but before Haurchefant had the chance to even do something as foolish as attempt to say his final words (if she failed, they would be “Nemi, look out!”, which was even worse than anything he could have said right now).

She closed her eyes and just started muttering a familiar spell, which left her lips almost constantly in battle. A gentle whisper, but instead of drawing from the aether around her, she managed to reach further than that, and towards the Eye.

A hyperfocused spell, fuelled by a desperate plea of “Don’t let him die because of me” and the Eye of Nidhogg.

For a moment every person thought they heard the wheels of fate grind to a screeching stop.

The Au Ra merely fell to the side, pale but still breathing.

The Elezen on the floor next to her, covered in his own blood, was also still breathing.

* * *

“How are they?”

“Still unconscious. It’s… it’s amazing though. It looks like he was never injured in the first place, but…”

“But?”

“Look, I only played around with conjury when I left home because I knew my mother was a conjurer back when she was still alive. I tossed both staff and bow away by now as you know, Lorven, so I can’t be sure but… there’s something odd about him.”

“… Odd how? I mean, I felt a rush of energy and all that but… This is not another Gilgamesh and Enkidu situation, is it?”

The female Miqo’te shook her head and furrowed her eyebrows. “I… don’t think it’s like that. He’s not a primal now, nor does he feel any different than before. He’s Haurchefant, alive and all, but… I dunno. It’s like Nemi exchanged a great deal of her own energy as well as some of his to make sure he wouldn’t die. I mean, like. Ugh, it’s hard to explain to someone who never dabbled with healing. There’s always an equivalent sort of exchange. Energy for energy, life for death. That kind of junk. In order to save a life not yet wasted Nemi subconsciously reached into the largest energy source, but due to us still being separated from our blessing, she was unable to call forth as much energy as she needed for that. So she threw in as much energy as she could without it killing her, and it still wasn’t enough. Since Haurchefant was still alive, she grabbed the nearest source of energy she could, and considering he was running before he got hit…”

“Wait. Energy exchange and all that aside, what exactly are you implying here?”

“She managed to save his life, as we both know. In the same moment however she traded most of her energy away… and his ability to walk. I think. Like I said, I’m too mediocre a conjurer to confirm this, and I know almost nothing about scholars, but…”

* * *

Nemi Sakuya was the first to wake. Her head throbbed, and it was the middle of the night. She couldn’t remember what had happened to her to cause this state, but when she tried to cast a spell on herself to get rid of the pain, all she got was a weak magical flicker, and nothing else. The Au Ra blinked into the dark room – the only candle in here had gone out, and soft snoring from the other bed meant that someone was asleep there. She couldn’t see who it was – her eyes just wouldn’t get used to the dim light, as if they were expecting a bright orange light to be in its place…

Bright orange. The Vault.

Nemi blinked rapidly. Her mouth was wide open, but not even a sound would escape her throat – which was good, considering she would have screamed in sheer terror of suddenly remembering this particular… event.

She raised her arms to grab fistfuls of her long hair, only to find that most of it had been chopped off. All things considered, she most likely had fallen unconscious in a puddle of blood, and with her fellow Warriors of Light preoccupied with screeching profanities after the Archbishop and preventing the other one from jumping after the airship while seething in rage and hurling all insults she knew after said airship… Well, the blood had most likely dried before they had managed to leave the Vault, and since she was uninjured at the time it would have been all the wiser to get rid of all this blood, in order to prevent a panic amongst their allies.

But… Why would they need to get rid of her hair if it was bloodstained, if… Haurchefant…

A soundless croak of horror, nothing more than air, escaped her lips and she looked around. Her eyes had adjusted to the dim light, and she saw that instead of one snoring person there were two in this room. One snoring, in a rather uncomfortable position in some kind of chair, and the other almost unmoving on the other bed.

The one in the chair had ears that twitched in their sleep, though Nemi could not make out which of her friends it was – during the day, Lahen and Lorven were worlds apart because of how they dressed and what their hair (and fur) was coloured, but right now this could both be loose long hair that was either pink or black. And they both snored rather similarly on top of that.

The second person in this room was what Nemi focused on. They were simply too tall to be either of her friends, therefore had to be a different race. Size alone left her with either a very skinny and lanky male Au Ra, a thin Roegadyn with odd proportions… or an Elezen.

Her breath caught in her throat she moved past the snoring figure on the chair and looked at the bed. It was simply too dark to tell, but she just knew.

Haurchefant. Alive. Breathing.

Sound asleep.

The Au Ra’s sight faded once more.

* * *

A kick to the shin. A snore-choke as she bolted to her feet, stumbled over them and then landed on something peculiarly soft.

Healing was exhausting, even moreso when the healer in question was a mediocre conjurer half worried to death, half lost in her own thoughts. It seemed fitting that her equal would be the one to stomp into the room this morning, armour on and all, and take his chance to inflict some kind of damage without actually injuring her for real.

Estinien and Lahen were more alike than both of them admitted, mostly because they were just two years apart, therefore the youngest people around here other than Alphinaud (and they knew better than to ask a lady like Tataru for her age). And thus, impulsive little paybacks for what had happened shortly after romping through the Stone Vigil to uncover Cid’s beloved airship were merely something that happened every other day. Or hourly.

Either way, if there was one thing likable about Estinien it was his ability to read the situation. Jump-starting Lahen like that made sure she fell over (or on top of) Nemi, who was unconscious on the floor.

“Oomph. Next time be gentler. Other people would flick my forehead, grab and slowly pull my ears, or kiss me on the cheek. A kick to the shin’s new.”

“The vaguely frightening implication of you wanting me to kiss you awake as if we were in a cheesy bedtime story for children aged four and under aside, how come your partner is on the floor? You were supposed to stay awake all night, and all of us – including Aymeric, for the Fury’s sake! – asked if you were ready for such a task. Yet here I find you, snoring louder than a dragon that breathes fire and—“

“Quiet.”

“…”

“Ah, it works every time.” With that, the Miqo’te got off her fellow Warrior of Light and dusted Nemi off. “I suppose she woke, and I slept through it. I know you’re glaring at me, stop that. Knowing Nemi her first reaction would’ve been her checking the room, and then when she found Haurchefant asleep here, she passed out.”

The second Azure Dragoon rose to her feet with a sigh and turned to look at her elder; Estinien returned her annoyed look with one of equal annoyance. Truce or not, they yet did not fully trust each other. And probably never would. They were both too impulsive for that, most likely.

“So, Estinien. Instead of standing there like an icicle, how about you… … How are you doing that? Pulling on my pants and that.”

“… Idiot.”

“No, seriously, there’s no one around other than…” A gasp, and the dragoon whipped around, immediately dropping to her knees and grabbing the hands that had gently pulled on her trousers. “Nemi! Oh, thank the Fury!”

The Au Ra shook her head slightly, a confused smile on her face as she gestured towards Estinien. Only then it dawned on both the Elezen and the Miqo’te that more than a week had passed since the incident at the Vault. And entire week the middle Warrior of Light had spent in something that resembled an eternal sleep, just without the death part accompanying it.

Lahen squeezed her eyes shut, unable to explain the situation on hand – she was always talking lots, but never in the important conversations. Since everyone except for Alphinaud was older than her, it seemed wiser to let them do the talking, and Alphinaud was simply such an excellent negotiator, the Coerthan never really had the need to speak during critical moments. She opened her mouth, and then almost immediately closed it again.

At some point Estinien groaned quietly. “What she’s most likely trying to articulate here, Lady Sakuya, is that she is very relieved to see you awake, unharmed as one can be, et cetera, et cetera. I _know_ you’re glaring at me, stop that. I was here to check on you and make sure the morning routine went smoothly, not to interpret you opening and closing your mouth like some senseless flying fish from the Sea of Clouds. Either way, I have to admit I, too, am very glad to see you awake, Lady Sakuya.”

Nemi blinked. Since when did people, most of all Estinien, address her as such? She would have asked him that, but nothing more than a soundless breath escaped her.

Healing too much comes at a price, and it would seem that she had paid for it with her voice. Whether this was temporal or would stick around she knew not, but it was a shocking realisation nonetheless. Staring ahead of her, she almost missed the door opening and several people pouring into the room. She quickly glanced to the side, and managed to make out her fellow Scions of the Seventh Dawn, precious little as they were, as well as the feet of Lucia, Francel and Count Edmont, and a strange pair of feet that required her to look up.

Worry and relief were on everyone’s faces, but most surprising was the fact that Ser Aymeric was wearing something that Ishgardians would consider “casual clothing”. It was still fancier than anything anyone else would wear during their downtime to recover, but Nemi had long since given up on trying working out how Ishgardians worked. Even Lahen, whose father was a dragoon in this city himself, had only proclaimed the inhabitants of the city “weird people in even weirder clothes”.

The loud discussion following everyone entering the room completely went over her head. The only fact she managed to make out between her pounding headache and the missing rush of aetheric energies around her was that Haurchefant still had not woken.

* * *

Three days after that, Nemi had switched places with Lahen. It was a surprisingly pleasant morning, with light snowfall.

She knew how much the younger Warrior of Light hated being locked in, and how easily she tore through her energy resources while healing, or keeping certain spells up. Regen was advanced for a conjurer, very advanced indeed, but Lahen simply had too little an energy pool to make good use of that. So being ahead of other conjurers was made redundant by the fact it simply wouldn’t be kept up at a steady rate. How Lahen had managed taking care of both Nemi and Haurchefant was beyond the scholar, but she was in no position to question it.

Watching him sleep gave her enough time to brood, which she needed as desperately as Lahen needed to run outside in the city with zero restraints and how Lorven needed people around him at least somewhat content to be content himself.

Just like the two others before her, Nemi quickly figured out that she had made a desperate wish near a tremendous source of energy – things both Ysayle and Gilgamesh had done, and both situations had more or less produced primals of a sort. Since her using all energy she had left also left her incapable of sensing aetheric energy, she could not confirm if Haurchefant was still human or not. All she had left were simply medic applications of the art of healing – feeling with her hands, hearing with her own ears.

And by all means, there was nothing too odd about the sleeping man. His heartbeat was steady and as strong as a rested grown man’s would be if he was awake. Which was an oddity, somewhat, but it might just have been a sign that he was well and could wake if given enough incentive. His temperature was absolutely normal. Maybe a bit warm from the blanket and the fire and the room being kind of stuffy due to people constantly walking in and out, but other than that there was nothing strange there. Skin colour, normal. If she poked around his face for too long he would screw it up in his sleep. He would twitch an arm if she gently punched him on the chest.

Perfectly normal. At least the upper half of his body.

But there was no reaction when it came to his legs. Normally if she knocked something onto his knees, there would have been a jerk of some sort, but there was nothing. Absolutely nothing. Not even his breathing changed a little, as if he was unaware of his legs existing in this deep sleep of his.

She groaned quietly, as much of a groan it could be without a voice. The scholar was more exhausted than she admitted – every time she had tried sleeping, the same thing would happen in her dreams and keep her awake.

The Vault. Blood everywhere. A desperate prayer not answered.

She was rather happy with her voice being gone; as she would have woken up screaming every single time she closed her eyes for too long.

Haurchefant’s steady breathing was slowly but certainly lulling her to sleep.

‘No, Nemi, don’t fall asleep now, you’re checking his injuries!’ was all she could think a few seconds before she blacked out entirely.

It was a pleasant afternoon sun she woke to, with someone gently touching her shoulder.

Afternoon sun?

Nemi bolted straight up into the chair and looked around frantically for the person who had tried waking her – but there was no one there. Now that she had a moment she realised no one would wake her that gently. Lahen was too rough a person, Lorven avoided human contact as much as he could, Ser Aymeric was once more confined to his bed (oh, how she wished she could have healed him as well), Tataru and Alphinaud’s hands were too small and Estinien never went outside of his quarters without his armour on. The hand on her shoulder wasn’t armoured as that of Lahen or Estinien would be; it couldn’t be Lorven, Tataru or Alphinaud because it was too large for that. Lucia and Count Edmond were out of the picture as well, as they were mostly preoccupied with other things than coming into this small chamber somewhere in the parts of Fortemps Manor she didn’t know.

“… Did I startle you?”

She would have recognised that voice anywhere, even if it was rather quiet compared to what she was used to. Her gaze flicked back to the bed, and she almost would have smiled widely were it not for his next words.

“My apologies… I never meant to rudely wake you like that but… you were laying on me in such awkward a position that I couldn’t feel my legs at all…”

 Nemi shook her head slowly and still managed to put on a smile a few seconds before tears ran down her face. Not even Ascians could promise such a miracle to all the people and beast tribes they had managed to coax into summoning primals.


	2. Winterfrust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Winterfrust: frustration, stagnation.

Nemi, mute as she was, was useless in the upcoming hunt for the Soleil. Through gritted teeth she had nodded along to Lahen and Lorven’s worried suggestion of her staying behind for the time being, at least until her voice returned. After that she could easily contact Cid or Alphinaud via Linkpearl and they would go get her as soon as they could after that. Still, watching her friends take off towards the Sea of Clouds was disheartening, especially after Nemi and Lahen had to admit that Haurchefant would not walk again if he were unlucky to his father. Together with her fellow Warrior of Light Nemi had been certain that something during the spell she had used had gone wrong, and with too much energy used there she had lost equally much.

But, as with her muteness, she hoped it was only a temporal sign of too strong a spell used. If she were mute forever… well, she would have to learn a new profession, one that did not require magic at all, but the thought of that frightened the Au Ra. She had done nothing but fling spells around for quite a few years now. Ever since defeating Ifrit together with Lahen and Lorven despite the horrible odds against them she had been the healer of the group. Even during the events that eventually made her one of the "Warriors of Light" she had focused her spells on mending wounds.

And without her, who would take that place? Sure, Alphinaud clearly worked into the direction of being at least somewhat useful to the Scions, and he showed the markings of an above average scholar, but… It usually was her who went headfirst into danger, since the Echo made her immune to being used by primals, Ascians, and other supernatural beings related to aether’s influence. Alphinaud lacked the Echo, which put him in danger of being made a thrall of whatever primal they would encounter next. Most likely Bismarck’s, all things considered. The twins had not gone as deep as the very core of Bahamut, and even if they had, it was questionable whether the primal in recovery would have made use of even more thralls, especially when one took all those unfortunate dragons into consideration. And Phoenix, at his very core, was still Archon Louisoix; a man who would have never done this to his grandchildren.

There were of course other people with the Echo, but they were not chosen by Hydaelyn. Even Midgardsormr simply referred to the Warriors of Light as "Hydaelyn's Chosen", and the one person with the Echo she could think of was simply an adventurer with the Echo. Where Nemi was determined, Nenela was gentle - maybe too gentle. Immunity to tempering or not, the Lalafell was most likely not cut out for the dreadful job of healing Lahen and Lorven. And she was the only person aside from Alphinaud she could think of right now.

The Au Ra cringed, which made the man on the bed look up in surprise.

“Everything alright?”

She quickly nodded, almost too quickly.

“… You’re worried, are you not? About the four who went after the Archbishop.”

Lacking a better excuse for it, she shrugged. She couldn’t exactly write down that she was worried about who would take her place if she continued being as useless as she was in this state.

“Well, if it is any consolation, you are not the only one who loathes sitting around to recover. The look in the Commander’s eyes I will never forget – he was seething internally about being unable to help. And, well, I too am rather… mhm, displeased with being unable to be of aid. Oh, do not take me wrong, dearest Nemi. I am more than glad I am here talking to you rather than dead and buried. I just wish we both were out there helping everyone else.”

Again tears welled up in her eyes. It seemed this was her constant state now – crying out of relief or frustration, and sometimes both. This time it was both. Haurchefant had seen her cry both other types: Relief when he woke up and frustration a couple of hours after the Scions had left. He did what he had done back then, and that was ruffle through her short hair.

Lahen had explained the short hair. Since Haurchefant was not visibly injured save for the hole in his shirt, they had kind of panicked and removed it in order to prevent panic among the citizens of Ishgard that would have surely gathered around the entrance to the Vault by now. Not even their allies from the Brume would have been able to prevent at least one person from seeing it, and if one person saw it and screamed out something like “blood!” it would have caused panic. Therefore they had gotten rid of Haurchefant’s shirt, and had to get rid of most of her hair. Aymeric, for the record, had been given a silly-looking mask Lahen had carried around for a while in order to hide his black eye and other particularly nasty cuts and bruises on his face.

“It’ll be just fine, trust me. I have yet to witness any of you losing a fight, and even if you initially lost him, who’s to say you won’t catch him? You also lost Iceheart’s… Ysayle’s trail several times before managing to pinpoint her in the Akh Afah Amphitheatre. If anything, we both should be glad that Estinien had not insisted he goes with those four.”

Haurchefant laughed softly at Nemi’s somewhat terrified expression. If the older Azure Dragoon had gone with them, then there would be no chance of them returning in one piece. Lahen was an excellent fighter if focused, but the other Azure Dragoon was more a distraction if anything. When they managed to work together, like they had in Mourn and while climbing up to Moghome, they were good. Every other time they were such a dysfunctional chaotic whirl of distrust and mutual dislike for each other that it was unwise to leave them alone for longer than two seconds.

“I see you agree with me. What a relief – I was certain someone would suggest he goes along with them. I mean, he is an excellent fighter, and a rather interesting person, but he simply does not work well together with Lahen. Not at all, period. Honestly, I almost considered asking Ser Sengun or Ser Alberic about this almost petty hatred between both their adopted children, but alas, I did not wish to be that intrusive. They most likely have a reason.”

Whatever the reason, Nemi had no idea. After the Stone Vigil Lahen had been summoned by Ser Alberic in a hurry, and after a few minutes of them talking they had almost immediately bolted off into a snowstorm. Whatever had happened at the place they had gone to “meet with Estinien” as she had overheard, it must have been nasty enough to leave some sort of unresolved issues between both Azure Dragoons. Lahen certainly never talked about it, and Estinien’s silence about any past run-ins with the Miqo’te was almost as cold as the winters were up here.

Just as Nemi reached for pen and paper to write something down to reply to this, she felt as if an axe was driven into her head. It was a familiar pounding headache, which surely enough turned into heartache a few seconds after, and she raised both her hands to her chest and breathed shallowly.

Never before had a person been around her when one of the wards that Midgardsormr had put up to separate her from the light’s blessing was torn down by sheer force, and Nemi saw Haurchefant’s face for a split second before her vision blacked out. It gave way to the same place she always stood in with Lorven and Lahen as they watched power return to one of the crystals they all had gathered over time. She looked to her sides, and although the place was still in a strange dim light she made out the other two Miqo'te beside her. Seeing her fellow Warriors of Light unharmed, if not a bit on the exhausted side because of whatever battle they had fought was relieving, but a split second after that she returned to the waking world.

A faint whisper was what accompanied her as she returned to look at a very worried Haurchefant.

“I thought you were having a heart attack of some sort. Are you quite alright, or do you need something?”

“I’m...” Nemi stopped immediately, and Haurchefant’s worry gave way to something that looked so ridiculously overjoyed that she almost wished she could vanish like a ninja like Lorven or Yugiri could.

“You spoke! Truly, that is among the most relieving things I have heard in quite a while.”

“P-Please…”

She was certain that Hydaelyn had swept away whatever lingering weakness from the aftermath of her plea. But only from her, since she was chosen.

Haurchefant wasn’t.

* * *

It was a silly-looking welcoming committee that waited at the airship landing. Aymeric, in his usual bright armour and all, with Lucia notably absent. Because of that, he was leaning to one side as he still was not healed completely. Tataru, as always, seemed to be a second away from exploding like a bomb with anxious anticipation. Nemi, pale and short-haired, with her shoulders hunched over in exhaustion from suddenly regaining her aetheric senses and the ability to speak. And Haurchefant, on the back of a black chocobo, since walking here was impossible.

Everyone expected the Warriors of Light and the Scions to return triumphant, as if they were bathed in light. Instead they all came back with grim expressions (as well as Lucia and a Magitek armour that looked familiar) and Lorven had an unconscious Lahen on his back. She had not looked this pathetic when the ward had been torn down, so it must have happened after they got attacked.

Before anyone could ask, they started telling the whole story of how they had lost the key to Azys Lla after Ascians had attacked Lahen while she had been holding it, and how they were incapable of following the Archbishop into Azys Lla when they gave chase.

Haurchefant offered the back of his chocobo so no one would have to carry dead weight like Lahen, since everyone else gathered here was simply not made for that – everyone was too exhausted or injured.

“I might as well do that, seeing as I was not invited to this party but am not injured like the rest of you,” a voice then offered from behind them. They hadn’t even noticed he was there.

Estinien. It was almost odd to see this man suggest carrying his rival like that, but everyone saw that he was right (the chocobo especially let out a relieved “kweh!”) and so they let him do as he pleased. Maybe "pleased" was the wrong word here, but it was hard to read Estinien's expressions anyway. The man shouldered the other Azure Dragoon and let out a huff as he followed the strange procession.

On their way back to Fortemps Manor Nemi realised that the people of Ishgard had long since gotten used to seeing the Warriors of Light and more or less important people of their city walk around together, often in bewildering compositions as this. It was a rather funny feeling.

* * *

The next one who was left behind in favour of her health, naturally, was Lahen. And it made her almost explode with anger, as opposed to Nemi quietly accepting it.

“Yeah, of course, go save the day and smack the Archbishop in the face because you’ll find an aetheric ram right as you pick up whomever of the Scions you’ll dig out! And while you’re at it, raise my parents from the dead, will you!”

She apologised for the outburst via Linkpearl the next day, but she still was seething. Mostly because she hated being confined to one place and knowing she was being confined. Ishgard had always looked like a very large prison to the young woman, as she had grown up in the rather vast Central Highlands and had always had a view of the Twelveswood from atop the mountains she climbed with her aunt (or adoptive mother, as Lahen had little to no idea she had been adopted before coming to Camp Dragonhead in search of an airship). The city however always looked like a fortress, and fortresses were something she always saw as a prison, no matter what their significance was.

The next thing she hated about being left behind was the fact the only people she could talk about basically anything were her father-uncle, Estinien, Haurchefant, Lucia and Aymeric. Aymeric and Lucia were out of the question because they were trying to cover up the Archbishop’s absence. Her father was currently not on duty, which meant he had no business in Ishgard, and seeing as he was finally getting the time to spend with her aunt that they had always wanted now that Nidhogg was dead and the dragons’ attacks had stopped for now, Lahen had no desire to call for her parents like some five year old kid. As much as she liked Haurchefant for being one of the only friends she had, right now it was just depressing so see him sitting around unable to leave bed. Lahen always fled such situations – she hadn’t even talked to Thancred for weeks after they managed to get Lahabrea out of his body and him out of certain death in the Praetorium’s explosion.

So the only choice was Estinien, as Cid, Biggs and Wedge were busy at the time.

And Estinien was always a depressing choice, as there was precious little they had in common except for being the Azure Dragoon, and wielding lances. He always refused talking about anything interesting other than war strategies. He had never even mentioned if he was born in Ishgard or anything, and never took off that helm. She hated it, she hated talking to him, and she hated him. She thought so, at least. Naturally, the thing she did was avoid the eventual encounter between the two of them. She would rather die than ask for his attention.

On that morning, as she stomped around the dragoon’s quarters in the city, she was up for a surprise.

Many people just ignored her, as dragoons were always moody somehow, especially now that there was no war to fight. Grumbling to herself she paid no attention to the man leaning against the wall until he spoke.

“Are you quite done throwing a hissy fit, Al’nebar, or is there something you wanted from me, seeing as your father is currently off-duty, Alberic is almost never within the city walls, and Heustienne dead, as you yourself said?”

The Miqo’te blinked, her hands curled into fists. Even if he wore his stupid armour, he was going to get a punch right in the face for that, but when she actually did see a face she stopped in her tracks.

“What, did you expect me to wear at least the headpiece of my armour during my downtime to conceal my face at all given times? Or did you expect me to look different somehow?”

She’d be lying if she said she hadn’t considered ripping off his helm before to see what he looked like, but admitting that to his face would be admitting he won one of their many small (and idiotic) mind games of a sort. So instead she just growled at the Elezen and he walked up to her. Without the helm his grin looked a lot less malicious than it usually did. In fact, he looked absolutely unremarkable, as a common-born Ishgardian or Coerthan usually did (it were always the highborn and the bastard-born that looked interesting).

“You never come here without reason." His voice even sounded slightly different. "So, pray tell, am I in for another round of you whining about your friends rightfully leaving you behind as you are still limping and unable to hold your balance correctly? Or did you come here for another, equally whiny reason?”

His bluntness took the wind out of her sails, and Lahen let out a long sigh. It was a sign of defeat, and Estinien hated admitting that he at least wished she had taken some childish jab at him rather than just sigh at him like that. Normally she would have taken the chance to snidely remark how nice it was of him to drop the helm, but there was nothing of the sort. She did not say anything at all, in fact. He shrugged.

“Look, the day is still young. I am not foolhardy enough to take you out for a walk in the highlands, but at least I can offer some kind of walk through the city before you go mad and attack some servant in Fortemps Manor.”

It was more of a jog through the city, as hardly anyone knew the older Azure Dragoon without his helm, and Estinien seemed unwilling to change this situation. Nevertheless, it was amusing after a few minutes, even if Lahen was unable to keep up due to her still injured leg, as he had correctly pointed out earlier. Most of her pent-up anger at her situation left her after half an hour, and once more she had to admit he was rather good at reading situations. One of his very few redeeming qualities, buried underneath what could easily be described as piled-up spite and hatred.

They stopped at some small shop with small tables to sit down and warm up at inside. A welcome chance to rest, as Lahen’s leg hurt and Estinien also noticed they were both starting to get cold in the cool air of the approaching winter. The Miqo’te almost dropped into the chair and stretched her injured leg out as far as possible.

“Your leg is healing rather slowly.”

“Thanks, I noticed. I guess I should be glad I can still walk, unlike Haurchefant, but… Ugh, I wish I was back to full health so I wouldn’t have to waste time here.”

“… Hm.”

“Heartless, I know. Complaining about this while he can’t walk at all.”

“… No, that’s not what I meant with that, Al’nebar, worry not. I know you speak ere you think about it, worry not.”

“Again, thanks. Idiot.” She rolled her eyes, the usual spite when around the other Azure Dragoon returning.

Estinien merely hummed at her once more, a faint smile on his lips. They fell silent for a few minutes, both staring into their tea. Almost mechanically, he started doing what he always did when he looked at black tea like this for too long: he started adding large amounts of sugar. The Miqo’te stared at him for a while, and then returned to glaring at her tea. The older dragoon was stirring his carefully, until at last Lahen cleared her throat.

“Two things.” She had once more looked up. Her ears flicked forwards.

“I’m listening, as much as I hate admitting that.”

“First, I can’t believe you put that much sugar in your tea. That’s disgusting. And that’s coming from a Miqo’te with a sweet tooth. I’m not even sure you can drink that kinda junk. And no, worry not, I am well beyond petty pranks like switching out your sugar with salt and then burst into giggling as you take a sip in the mornings. We buried that kind of childish behaviour back in Mourn.”

He simply raised an eyebrow at her. She flicked her ears back into their usual position.

“Good, glad to have said that. Second.” She paused. “Whenever your legs are injured, you tend to sit down, right? You just stopped here so I could rest on a proper chair. A very welcome and comfortable, if a bit tacky chair, at that. So that got me thinking as you poured sugar into your tea like a madman. Call me crazy as you always do, but… If there was some kind of chair that moved with Haurchefant, don’t you think he should be able to… well, move? It would make him stop moping and brooding – he thinks I haven’t seen yet as he always puts on that smile whenever I’m around, but I noticed he’s as down the dumps as I was the first days after they left two weeks ago.”

Silence. Estinien was just staring at her, mouth slightly open. The more time passed, the more flustered the Miqo’te became until eventually she grabbed her tea with shaky hands.

“That was stupid, sorry.”

The elder Azure Dragoon shook his head slightly, at first unable to answer. “No, no, quite the contrary… It’s… honestly, it is quite brilliant?”

“Even more so when we consider it comes from me?” Her smile was small, but he had better things to reply to her attempts at the usual idiotic banter they shared.

“No. Childish jabbing at each other aside, it’s really… how in the seven hells did none of us think of that before?”

The Miqo'te shrugged, the cup still in her hands. “Maybe because no one can actually build…”

Both dragoons paused. Her eyes widened as he breathed in sharply. Lahen dropped her cup, and Estinien tipped his over as both of them jumped to their feet.

“Cid, Ser Stephanivien, Biggs and Wedge, of course!”

“Garlond Ironworks and Skysteel Manufactory, naturally!”

* * *

With a groan and the claim of “If I have to take another step I’m gonna fall over dead!” the Miqo’te sunk into a chair. The library was larger than anticipated – much larger. They progressed rather slowly, constantly either fighting or going though shelves of books that actually were interesting but not what they sought.

“Well, naturally, it has to be beyond all wards and such but… there’s seemingly no end to those and to the books… I-I mean, theory on teleportation and such is all neat as hell, especially since teleporting does not come naturally to a handful of people and the book addressed that—“

“Nemi. You actually read that thing?”

“M-More skimmed over it… we were taking a break and all, and since Lahen wasn’t around to rip it out of my hands and do something dumb as always, I just… got lost, I guess.”

Both Warriors of Light let out a sigh. Lorven loved books, as he had already told people millions of times, but right now he wanted to be out of the library, and fast. Mostly because the fact that the last of their trio had never caught up, and she had stopped reporting over Linkpearl two days ago. It seemed as if the youngest had been swallowed up by Eorzea, and knowing her it wasn’t all that unlikely that she had just limped off to some backwards kind of adventure that ended with her injured or dead. Though, if she had been dead, there would have been some kind of reaction. Their fates had been woven together since the day they had first met in Sastasha, which had, by all silly nostalgia, almost ended with the three of them killing each other in rage.

What he also noticed was that the lack of incoming information regarding Haurchefant’s situation made the Au Ra more anxious than facing primals had ever done. The sooner they found the (written) material needed to make an aetherial ram, the faster they would return to Ishgard, which in turn would ease both their nerves. Lorven wanted out as soon as possible, but right now all he actually immediately wanted was to just sit here and forget his aching legs.

He stretched, shoving the chair backwards a little – and he stopped mid-motion.

The Au Ra also paused the moment she saw that. It was a simple solution to a question they hadn’t even actively asked themselves yet (they avoided the topic as much as possible), and both Warriors of Light looked at each other with realisation mirrored on their faces.

A moving chair, to at least somewhat tackle Haurchefant’s moodiness related to being locked in that Lahen had reported.

* * *

“… Well, I suppose that could work? You just need a chair, and wheels, I suppose.” Cid looked at the head of Skysteel with a puzzled look. Befor Stephanivien de Haillenarte could say anything, Lahen grabbed his arm.

“Can the four of you do that!?”

“If the two of you stop bouncing around on your legs like overexcited Lalafell and leave us alone to work, I suppose we could, right, Master Garlond?”

* * *

It was a simple idea. So simple in fact that no one had thought of it before. Normally knights lost use of one leg, which could be remedied with canes. Losing use of both legs normally meant they were dead on the ground, their chest split open by some kind of aevis or something. But Haurchefant’s situation was almost unheard of – and even if there were stories like that, they usually ended in fire, dragons, and more grief than before.

While Lahen and Estinien were clearly plotting something together, Aymeric was still slowly healing and both he and Lucia were occupied with keeping Ishgard from falling apart.

Which left Haurchefant de Fortemps alone in his room.

When Nemi had been the one to be left behind, she had always been in the room. Not that he hated Lahen for leaving as much as she did, but he did start feeling rather hopeless at times with no one around to talk to. Servants or his half-brothers were not the same as the Warriors of Light, who most often simply listened to rambling and then merely nodded and thought of a way to fix situations. Though, he supposed, there was no way to fix his situation. He wouldn’t get up and magically walk, that much he had figured out already. Naturally people never said it to him directly – not even the rather blunt Estinien had.

And so half a week passed, and Haurchefant watched Lahen’s limp vanish with every day, and watched as she stormed off to whatever the hell she was doing with the other Azure Dragoon all day.

Well, maybe he should be happy they weren’t at each other’s throats anymore. One less thing to worry about. And one less thing to worry about meant he had even more time to miss the Auri scholar.

Half a week. It was way past noon when suddenly there was a loud trampling noise and a giggle outside the room, followed by a harsh “Be quiet, fool”. Both voices clearly belonged to the Azure Dragoons. Heavens, what were they even doing that required such tremendous amounts of noise? To Haurchefant, it sounded improper at best, and vaguely terrifying at worst. They had hated each other mere days ago. What was the meaning of this?

His unasked question was answered a split moment later, when both Azure Dragoons bust open the door with Lahen smiling widely and Estinien as stoically refusing to do anything like that as always. Haurchefant blinked at them in confusion.

“We got a gift for you!” Lahen's voice was back to being loud and booming as it usually was.

Haurchefant's confusion stopped immediately, and was replaced by irritation. “A what.”

“A gift, Haurchefant! Surely you haven’t forgotten what those are.”

He sighed, letting himself fall forwards out of the chair and face first into the bed. “Don’t care. Go out and have fun running around, like dragoons normally do, will you.”

The older Azure Dragoon looked at the younger – she certainly had not been lying when she had said that he was getting more and more gloomy the longer he was locked in here. There wasn’t even an attempt at covering up his resentment for his current situation. Lahen looked at Estinien and then back at Haurchefant, completely unable to reply anything. She hadn’t been prepared for that kind of answer, and it took the wind out of her sails.

Her elder merely shrugged at her and then turned to look at the knight once more. “… Well, you managed to make her shut up in shock. That is quite a feat, Lord Fortemps.”

“Not as much a feat as you getting ambushed by the remains of Svara’s horde, Azure Dragoon.” Haurchefant would have loved getting some sort of reaction out of Estinien with that, but the Azure Dragoon did give him no such pleasure.

“You may have shut up a second Al’nebar with that, but I am no Al’nebar, nor will I ever be.” With that, Estinien walked forwards, grabbed Haurchefant and simply threw him over his shoulder. “You’re coming with us, Greystone, whether you want to or not. If I had to suffer through this, then so do you.”

Haurchefant offered only weak protest. He hadn’t even noticed the other man wasn’t wearing any armour concealing his entire body before that, and he just made a small confused noise as Estinien sharply turned around and marched out of the room and past several equally confused servants. Some of them asked if the Azure Dragoons were kidnapping the young Lord, but did nothing to stop them on their way out – of course Lahen had made sure to tell Count Edmont what exactly they were planning, and therefore as they stomped through the main hall with a by now loudly complaining Haurchefant still thrown across Estinien’s shoulders, all the head of House Fortemps did was shrug at the confused servants.

They burst out of the front door, and Haurchefant was actually blinded by the bright afternoon sun outside of the manor. He had spent weeks in that cramped stuffy room which only had two relatively small windows and curtains that were closed the entire time. The considerably paler Elezen was by now banging his hands against Estinien’s back, which the dragoon did not even acknowledge the slightest – unmoving as a glacier was a good character trait whenever he managed to keep his cool and when he was around particularly pesky and energetic nuisances, up to and including nobles and other dragoons.

“If you would please cease your childish behaviour and would at least take a look at the reason for us so rudely bursting into your room and essentially kidnapping you, that would be an excellent solution. After you have taken a look at it and listened to our explanation, we can easily drag you back to your den of misery, if you so desire.” How Estinien managed to sound that morbidly amused was beyond both the other Azure Dragoon and the bastard son of Lord Fortemps. The Miqo'te however groaned and crossed her arms.

“Ugh, can you make it sound even more like a horrible torture machine that we stole from Ascians while they weren’t looking? Please, do try, I would love to hear you slander this grand idea even further, Estinien, really, I do. Either way, Haurchefant, as our polite and friendly and warm-hearted friend here was trying to say… Please do take a look at why we got you out of that room. I promise it is nothing idiotic that’s completely wasting your or anyone else’s time. I mean, if Mister Azure Dragoon here was kind enough to make sure you saw more than his back. … Oi, thickskull, that was an order. Put him down. No, not the ground.”

With a rather irritated (and familiar) sigh, Estinien shrugged carefully and then almost dumped the son of Count Fortemps in whatever they had brought here. Once more a noise of protest from the man, whose silver hair was even more a mess than usual, until he paused. He looked at the thing only fleetingly, his irritation finally reaching its peak. Instead of yelling however he looked at the uneven pair.

“… A chair. You brought me a chair, and instead of bringing it into my new permanent home, you dragged me all the way out here. Congratulations, I guess.”

“Ere you complain, take a closer look at it.” Estinien looked down to the side, and caught a particularly nasty glare from both the other Azure Dragoon and one of the four inventers who had just arrived on the scene. “… Please, just do before someone gets hurt.”

It was rather obvious that Haurchefant bit back a “Oh, I’d love that” kind of comment, as he narrowed his eyes for about a minute until finally he took a closer look at what he had been so unceremoniously dumped in. A chair, by all means, but it was a peculiar construction…

“If it’s not comfortable, please tell us. We were mostly thinking about practicality rather than comfort when we did finishing touches, but if it’s any consolation this thing’s almost indestructible. It’d withstand dragon fire!” Following that comment, Biggs went on a quiet rant about what they had done with this thing.

“A chair… with wheels?”

The Warrior of Light that had remained in Ishgard beamed brightly and clapped her hands together. “Yup, exactly! I know it’s little consolation for your legs, and all. But since you’re alive and extremely unhappy with rotting away in that tiny room there, we kind of… went with the first and craziest idea we had – which was exactly what you’re sitting in right now. The only ideas on top of that were wheels you could move by yourself, but also a way to let others shove this thing around if you got too tired. We considered chocobos, yeah, but that would be impractical at best and dangerous at worst, so it’ll have to be manually operated until we find a way to not make this some kind of flying Manacutter 2.”

The head of Camp Dragonhead fell silent, unable to think of anything to reply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> http://aethercurrent.tumblr.com/post/127563269976 making of: posting snowdrift
> 
> I spent approximately 24 hours in complete despair over whether to be consistent for once and go with English title and English chapter names or German title and German chapter names; or to simply be a jackass and either go with German title + English chapter names or English title + German chapter names.  
> I went with the latter :v Not to be a jackass actually: the German word for snowdrift would have been "Schneewehe", which, according to one of my native English-speaking friends, looked kinda funny...
> 
> As for why Rolanberry is cited as author, this entire au was her idea, and we just hellishly got into discussing it (seriously, I could screenshot today's skype convo and it would be 80% talking about this, and 20% me crying because my first attempt at A2 went Fucking Idiotic and didn't get a clear, á la A1)... Until I kinda started several drafts, fucked off to New England for 3 weeks, and came back with the intense desire to finally write it.  
> So yeah!  
> We actually just called it "wheelchair-au" (we still do) since that's what it's about.
> 
> ... I horribly suck at happy things. The last time I wrote something legitimately happy was in 2011 I think, after I dropped an au where everyone and their grandmother died. Oops.  
> I promise I'll not let loose 2011 vanitaslaughing, that'd be a tad weird and inconsistent :v
> 
> Chapter titles will eventually require a real translation note like both have gotten so far I promise. 's kinda hard to brainstorm for cold-related things when you room's at 30°C and air conditioning is mostly unheard of in Germany, let alone medieval houses.


	3. Ruhe vor dem Sturm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The calm before the storm; but eventually the wind starts blowing

This time, the return of the Scions was grand indeed. As grand as it could be with only Tataru, Lucia, and some armoured man they didn’t recognise awaiting them. All four of them were essentially stumbling off the airship they had taken from Falcon’s Nest to Ishgard – the trek through the Dravanian Hinterlands back to back with a wild Chocobo chase through the Forelands followed by a handful very unwilling black Chocobos flying them through a snowstorm in the Western Highlands had scattered everyone’s energy reserves in the four winds. Alphinaud was half asleep on his feet, Y’shtola was pale, Lorven muttered something about being starved, and the first thing Nemi uttered was a request a glass of water. Lucia only quietly offered them a cart which Tataru had requested they bring along in case the Scions carried something large like a half-finished aetherial ram. Of course a book was no such thing, but before they could even mention the book they had been shoved on the cart.

It was an undisturbed ride to Fortemps Manor, if anything else. Alphinaud, asleep within two minutes, jerked awake when they stopped and immediately muttered something about not having been asleep. The rest of the Scions took it with a shrug; they were all unwilling to start any kind of discussion in the state they were in.

The front door opened and a figure slid out, only to stop immediately. “Oh, darn. I knew I should’ve switched the Linkpearl back to active after…”

Well, Lorven thought, at least Lahen was still alive, and still as infuriatingly loud as ever.

“Welcome back?”

Standing on her feet with the same annoying wobble her entire body did whenever she stood still for too long – it was clear she was at least fit enough to follow them once they handed Cid that book. Almost immediately, the Au Ra who had been holding it slowly rose from her seat in the cart and handed the book to Lahen with a yawn.

“Go ‘n’ give that to Cid… He’ll know what to do… I need some sleep…”

He quietly agreed, dragging himself out of the cart to follow Nemi and offered Alphinaud a hand as he staggered after them.

* * *

When he woke up it was still night. Normally the Warriors of Light shared the same room, sometimes even the same bed, but for the sake of getting a good night’s sleep they had agreed to split up for this night. Still, without the familiar feeling of knowing the other two were around, Lorven woke up with a start.

In his sleepy daze he and Nemi both had forgotten to mention the idea with the chair. Lahen had seemed like she wanted to say something but she had almost surprisingly quietly gone to hand Cid the book and returned with news that this “ram-thingy” would be finished in less than a week. After that they’d gone to bed.

He felt bad not having mentioned it – when he considered all the times Haurchefant had quite literally risked his life for them… not mentioning something as simple as that was just a horrible, horrible oversight which left a particularly nasty taste in his mouth. He hated this situation. More than anything before, in fact (and Lorven had claimed to hate many things, up to and including sparring, too much human contact, sparring, and the fact that certain people were simply insufferable at times). The Seeker stretched and got to his feet almost mechanically. They were still half numb from cold, and even the warmest, softest bed in all of Eorzea would not make this dull ache go away unless he walked a little. He grabbed his coat, threw it over his shoulders and left the room to wander around in the manor.

It was eerily quiet in here, as usual. The servants had all gone to sleep by now, and every guest and other person living here had long since retired to their rooms.

Half a second later the Miqo’te almost lost his tail as he heard a scratching noise nearby. What was even more embarrassing about jumping up like that was that he, upon instinct, let out a loud hiss which clearly alerted whoever was out there with this scratching noise. ‘Oh, please, don’t let that be a sword or armour’ was the only thought that ran through his head as he attempted to locate the source of the noise. But alas, a Seeker of the Sun would always be a Seeker of the Sun – Lorven simply couldn’t see in this dim darkness. He could see even when the sun almost scorched the Sagolii Desert, but seeing in the dark or in a snowstorm was something he’d never be able to.

The scratching noise in the meanwhile became louder and louder. It was a consistent noise, implying some kind of cart.

Who in the name of Hydaelyn drove a cart around in the dark, and that in a fancy manor?

Probably thieves, rogues. Well, at least those would be people he could take on easily; Lorven was a ninja after all.

However, with the scratching noise came a small source of light, and the Miqo’te almost didn’t believe his eyes when he started making out Haurchefant’s face in the dark.

“Eh?!”

Haurchefant seemed to be rather surprised to see Lorven out here, as he tilted his head a little. “... Aren’t Seekers of the Sun diurnal?”

“My race’s habits are completely irrelevant. The hell? How’d you get here?” Lorven realised his insensitive comment a beat too late; thankfully all Haurchefant did was laugh quietly.

“Ah, worry not. I’m capable of moving now, albeit not with my own two feet. Without this construction I would be stuck in my room.”

“A chair… with wheels. Ha. Ha ha. Twelve, Nemi’s gonna be both happy and disappointed. But I guess all three of us had the same idea at the same time, almost.”

The Elezen shrugged with a faint smile on his face. “I do not think anyone is ever going to understand what the three of you share. This kind of bond, it certainly is… supernatural.”

Lorven blinked. The man opposite didn’t have a clue how supernatural it exactly was. The Echo itself was already considered an almost paranatural power that only select people had, but the whole ‘Warriors of Light’ thing that followed them everywhere… It was as if they were live miracle workers, sent to Eorzea by Hydaelyn because this country out of all needed them most now. But there were older, and certainly stronger and wiser people around to do that than a half-baked pile of conflicting personalities like the three of them were. Nemi he understood; she was made for this role of being a guardian angel. General roughness and loud mouth aside, even Lahen fit the “hero” and “saviour” spectrum perfectly.

The oddest one out was the Seeker from Thanalan; a young man who had foolishly challenged his tribe’s Nunh and lost in the most humiliating way ever. Not even dropping his tribe’s name and the position-proclaiming ‘last name’ of Tia had made him feel any better in the months following his disappearance from the tribe. He was proud of his heritage, yes, but he was much less proud of the way R‘lorven Tia had become Lorven S’ylver. He’d gotten this last name from an adventurer who had died while they were on the way to Ul’dah – the fastest way out of Sagolii to Ul’dah led through Amal’jaa-controlled territory, past the settlement of Little Ala Mhigo. The adventurer had agreed to take the young man, essentially a teenager back then, with him. They’d made it through the desert and everything afterwards almost without trouble – and then the man had gotten too cocky fighting a single peiste. S’ylver and the very valuable lesson of “don’t overestimate yourself” had been what Lorven retained to this day. Following that he’d wasted time in Ul’dah, as the rest of his travels were relatively undisturbed. Thankfully his grandmother lived around the city, so he had a place to stay until he could afford a room somewhere by himself. And making money by doing dirty jobs for rich people was relatively easy, especially since young tribal Miqo’te were generally considered too blue-eyed to be truly culprits (an idiotic thing to think, but rich Lalafell would never admit they got robbed by some savage from the desert). At least it went like that until one day he managed to catch the eye of the Thaumaturges. Part of him still missed using magic, but it was so much simpler to use his knowledge of manipulating aether for surprise attacks on unsuspecting enemies.

“… Lorven?”

He shook his head. This wasn’t the time to be thinking about this.

“I guess I’m still diurnal after all, I’m starting to daydream. Or, I guess, is it really daydreaming when it is night and you’re awake? Who knows? Good night, Haurchefant. Don’t let Nemi see that, I’m pretty sure Lahen wanted to make this some kind of big deal. You know she loves her big deals.” He stretched, and the Elezen only laughed once more.

“Almost as much as she loves starting fights and beating people in drinking games.”

* * *

A ninja who had used black magic up to a certain point and who had used an axe for a while for a laugh.

A dragoon who used to be a bard and who had played a little with conjury.

A scholar who too had used an axe for a laugh as well as having taken to punching things every now and again should they get too close.

Their fighting strategy was simple – the dragoon took hits as well as she could while most likely skewering most of their enemies before they even had a chance to seriously hurt her; the ninja flung knives and smaller spells around as if he was just simply playing a game of tag; the scholar remained behind and took care of her partners and kept and overview of the general fight.

It simply lacked someone capable of truly taking a hit. Both Lorven and Lahen had been swatted around by primals like playthings on multiple occasions, leaving Nemi and the fairy Lily at her side to either get her comrades back to their feet as soon as they could, or to face the same kind of attack with significantly lighter armour.

During their stay at Camp Dragonhead those three had often helped defeating heretics and dragons along the soldiers, and every time Haurchefant had been lucky (or unlucky) enough to be nearby to see, it was clear that despite all claims those three were still simply human.

He’d known that all along, from the day they had faced the false Inquisitor and helped him save Francel’s life – after all they’d all stood there essentially waiting for Nemi to heal them. Arrows stuck in their arms, or part of the armour simply broken off was nothing unusual, but on the fabled Warriors of Light it looked like a sick joke; a painful reminder of their own mortality. Truth be told, Haurchefant had considered offering them his aid many times. He actually had offered it countless times, but every time he was politely turned down.

“Can’t bring a Fortemps into a fight, even if I know you’re good. I’d rather not risk my dad getting hanged for heresy because his dumbass daughter invited a Fortemps and got him killed out there somewhere in the fields with no one else around,” had been the most half-baked argument when they were nothing more than acquaintances. Then again, considering how straightforward Lahen was, she probably thought exactly that.

“Look, we appreciate your help, we really do, but we’re gonna fight a primal. Remember what those do? Does ‘enslaving humans to worship them’ ring familiar? Ser Haurchefant, you’re a good person. But you’re also the leader of Camp Dragonhead. That’s why we can’t take you along to get roped into endlessly worshipping some primal – there’s no way to reverse that, and we’d have to kill you. Sorry, but no,” had been Lorven’s careful approach of the matter. He was right, and Haurchefant knew that, but back then he didn’t want to accept that.

“We can’t. I’d rather lose my limbs than losing someone who’s so dear to me… to us. Sorry, Haurchefant,” had been Nemi’s quiet apology before she had dashed off to catch up with her friends. She truly sounded like she regretted leaving him behind in the snowstorm as they took off to find Iceheart’s lair.

It seemed like many people were considered unfit to fight alongside them by the simply process of elimination. The first question: Did the person who wanted to help them have the Echo?

That point alone was where 80% of the people failed. Without the Echo humans were simply just another thrall to be made, therefore a bad idea to bring along to a true fight against a primal. For prolonged scavenging hunts like Snowcloak it was better if there were as little people as possible, therefore the three of them had gone alone. The heroic takeover of Castrum Meridianum had been a selected group of particularly reckless adventurers – a small group that effectively shut down the entire facility, if tales were to be believed. And the Praetorium they had stormed with the same group, albeit the group had been split into three much smaller ones; they all met again for their fight against the Ultima Weapon. And last but not least, for the Steps of Faith the Warriors of Light had just been three of countless men and women that fought and bled on that battlefield closer than ever to Ishgard’s gates. Their eventually formed group had consisted of a few people they already knew, and it had been their group that had administered the third and final Dragonkiller.

It was like watching the dragoons take off towards another round of dragonkilling as he trained with the sword back when he was a teenager. All these people had purpose, dreams, maybe sometimes just the desire to kill dragons. Most of the time they returned with tales of grand victories, especially if Ser Alberic accompanied them – the Azure Dragoon was essentially the base ingredient for a won fight, it seemed. But then there were times they came home beaten, bruised, with half of them dead or dying.

It was the same with the Warriors of Light. Those three had dreams, purpose, and there was no doubt at least one of them enjoyed destroying things every once in a while. They usually returned with grand tales like driving off Garlean forces while confirming that the Keeper of the Lake was yet dead and would not roar for Dravanian forces to fly against Ishgard; or head-first jumping in after an Ascian to free their kidnapped friend. But there were times they turned out to have been bested. Hopelessness on the faces of everyone gathered at Camp Dragonhead, bruises and cuts and a gloom he wouldn’t forget that soon. It was a miracle they hadn’t carried bodies with them, and now that they were in Ishgard Haurchefant found himself worried that they might return as the corpses of dragoons that fell while hunting for dragons.

Although the seemingly endless fight against these creatures had stopped by now – thanks to them and Estinien.

Haurchefant sighed.

He didn’t like where this was going. Someone was going to inevitably get dangerously hurt. Considering Nemi had been the last of them to perform a ridiculous affront against the rules of nature, it was probably going to be her.

And he dreaded that more than anything.

* * *

It had been a weird morning.

Nemi had woken relatively early – it was the second day after the Scions had returned from the Hinterlands, and yet no word of Cid. Therefore she had decided to take a walk.

At the Forgotten Knight however she encountered a strange event. Seeing dragoons together was nothing strange, and the fact that Estinien was screaming at Lahen would have been not all too odd if the man showed emotion like that more often. Alas Estinien Wyrmblood didn’t, and the fact that Lahen Al’nebar, ever the cocky maniac to seek a challenge, was hanging her head and shrinking as Estinien continued whatever tirade he held was bewildering to watch. However as she tried to get closer to hear what it was about, the men standing not too far away from them turned to calm down the situation – Nemi managed to make out one of the men was Lahen’s adoptive father, which meant the other man was most likely Ser Alberic. Who the third man was she had no idea, but she never got to ask that. All five of them turned around after Lahen raised her head and said something, and they took off towards the Pillars in a jog (and a dragoon jogging was something that happened rather fast; it was almost a sprint).

She tried following them, suddenly curious about the situation, but all she got to see was a small airship taking off towards the Western Highlands. Teleporting was a possibility, but even then she would be going on a wild goose chase, all things considered. She had no idea what the two Azure Dragoons and the three men were out to do, and there was little hope of getting something out of them – Alberic didn’t mention mission objectives, Lahen when crestfallen like that barely talked at all, a stranger probably wouldn’t tell her anything, Sengun Al’nebar was not exactly someone for idle chat when focused (much like his daughter), and it would be easier getting information from a brick than from Estinien (and talking to one was possibly more pleasant than that too).

After that she’d almost walked into Lorven having a conversation with Hilda, but she knew better than interrupting that – Lorven had some kind of awkward fascination for Hilda going on, and unlike him and Lahen she knew better than to ‘help out’. Lahen especially seemed to take an odd joy in torturing poor Lorven for his admiration of Hilda's skills as machinist. Lorven himself had denied having any feelings for the mongrel, with the eerie mention of his heart belonging to someone completely different. Nemi would have said anything back then if Lahen and Lorven had not confessed that they had a bet with several people going on - a bet about Nemi and Haurchefant.

Now that it was almost noon, she considered just sitting down somewhere and grabbing something small to eat, but the other subject of the aforementioned ‘betting pool’ came into view not too far away from her.

She tried playing it as casual as possible, almost tripping over her own feet on the way there. Thankfully he put an end to her embarrassing plans before she could execute them.

“Ah, Nemi. What a pleasant surprise. I had thought you had gone out with your friends.”

She huffed and crossed her arms. “Yeah, I wish. One stormed off with an entire entourage of dragoons like they were being chased by wild chocobos, and the other’s trying to flirt or something. No thanks. I don’t fancy joining a dragoon marathon, nor do I want to see the awkward mishaps of a fool.”

“… You should give him more credit.” The Elezen looked almost sympathetic as he said that, and Nemi huffed.

“He almost started crying when Lahen started casually joking about…”

Haurchefant started grinning. The day before had had a rather interesting morning to accompany the otherwise boring day. “Come on, I dare you to repeat what Lahen said during breakfast yesterday.”

“S-She casually started joking a-about…”

Nemi fell silent and stared at her own feet while Haurchefant was clearly enjoying himself. He was laughing. “Maybe later, then. Fancy going on a walk with me instead of standing here and having a staring contest with the flooring?”

Considering her first walk had consisted of strange events so far, this sounded like a much more pleasant alternative. She agreed, then grabbed the handles of this strange chair Stephanivien, Biggs, Wedge and Cid had constructed during her absence. The wind was harsh today, and it carried the smell of an oncoming blizzard, but Nemi had come around to somewhat enjoying this. As much as she had hated Coerthas and Ishgard at first for disrupting her ‘second skin’ as Lalafell (much like Yugiri she had thought most people of Eorzea would not take lightly to her face), she had started to like this place. It wasn’t as homely as Limsa Lominsa felt to her, but this was a good replacement for the city.

It wasn’t as warm here, but there was the same busy energy that seemed to keep the entire port town almost bursting with life. But with Ishgard it was a steady play between natural powers of that sort, and simply so many living beings around that there was no way to tell where was where. The city was much larger than it already looked – the way it was built was very clever. Also very reminiscent of Dravanian designs, as she had come to learn, but this was no time to ponder on what they had learned about the Dragonsong War.

It was pleasant to stroll through the city like this, though it was – and never would be – the same as the day they had been given a tour of it after first arriving. Lahen, in her overexcited stupor, had grabbed Alphinaud and Lorven before either had a chance to protest and had burst out of the hall before the servant Count Edmont would be sending along with them had even entered the room. Tataru excused herself as Haurchefant, currently home to deliver a message, offered to show Nemi around while attempting to catch Al’nebar’s daughter and her two captives. He had paused at what he assumed would be important for outsiders to know, all accompanied by a short yet helpful explanation and his gentle smile whenever he was doing something he enjoyed.

Therefore it was no surprise to her when he suddenly raised his voice in a familiar tone. “Say, Nemi. That tower over there. Did I mention it when I showed you the city?”

She looked at the tower he had pointed out, but it did not ring any bells. “… You didn’t.”

“Well, take a closer look at it. Can you see these black things that look like windows?”

“Oh, huh. Yeah, I didn't notice them before.”

“Well, those aren’t windows. Those are steps where dragoons test their jumping abilities. Before you ask, yes, dragoons have indeed died falling from those, but it is not like they are required to jump those up and down. They merely consider it training for when they eventually have to jump dragonback and still manage to land perfectly after getting off. They justify those tower deaths with ‘well, better they die in the city instead of a battlefield where there’s a good chance they’ll be burned on top of snapping their backs and necks’. At least that’s what I overheard back when I was 15 – that was the last time a dragoon died from falling down there. Huh. Almost 15 years since that. Must be a new record; I should really congratulate Ser Aymeric and Estinien on the streak of not losing any people within the city walls, then.”

“… You Ishgardians sure are weird… Not even Lahen is that morbid about those kinds of things… And I mean…" The Au Ra gestured vaguely. "It's _Lahen_.”

“We Ishgardians and Coerthans alike are way too used to the Dragonsong War, I suppose. That makes for some crass material to outsiders like you, but… it’s not all that odd to us. Then again, why Lahen is most likely avoiding that topic: Her father is a dragoon, and in Coerthas there are many things that kill you even within your own four walls. Much more than here in Ishgard, mind you, so at some point we started joking about things like the dragoon tower… thing. Whoever built that clearly had no idea what these fools would one day do.”

Nemi sighed softly. “Maybe it wasn’t meant for humans, for but dragons. Before Thordan found out about the power of eyes, he founded Ishgard. During a time where there was peace between Dravanians and the people that would be Ishgardians. The order of the dragoons was founded in order to kill dragons; the first Azure Dragoon directly rose from _almost_ killing a dragon. Why shouldn’t the dragoons then take over what was originally meant for dragons? The strong eat the weak – maybe in the less literal sense when the citizens of Ishgard are the stronger ones during your conflict, but maybe in the whole… taking over territory thing.”

Both the Au Ra and the Elezen fell silent, until after a few minutes Haurchefant turned his head to look over his shoulder. His expression was rather grim.

“When you take off to Azys Lla—“

“Forget it. Just forget it. I already almost lost you once, and it cost you your legs. You’re not going anywhere; you’re staying right where you are. Support Aymeric where you can, drive your wheely chair thing over your brothers’ feet, I don’t care. But you’re not coming with us. I’d rather die than almost lose you again.” The words were out of her faster than she could think, and much to her surprise Haurchefant smiled.

“Thought you’d say that, but there was no harm in trying, was there? … No, honestly, thank you. I owe you my life, and…”

“You owe me nothing. Anyone would have done that for the person… I mean, for a friend.”

“Lahen could have, she’s an Azure Dragoon and clearly has experience in healing. Yet it was you who did what people of Ishgard thought impossible – you, a person who is not the Azure Dragoon, used the power of the Eye.”

“… Lahen was too busy snapping her spear in half and swearing after the Soleil in words that would make even pirates from Limsa blush deep crimson. And she’s not used to healing enough to—“

“Hum. Don’t talk yourself down. Your feat was amazing, all the more so since it was an almost impossible thing to perform.”

Nemi remained silent – if she had been in full control of everything, without the wards Midgardsormr had built up around them for whatever reason the dragon had, she could have probably saved his life without him having to sit here. The energy within the eye that yet remained untapped was incredible; now that she was at full health she could feel it as it moved with Estinien somewhere across the Western Highlands.

She didn’t pay it too much mind why she was able to pinpoint such strong amounts of aether. Lahen could feel the Eye as well, and even Lorven had admitted feeling something weird in the gut region whenever that thing was around. Maybe sensing large amounts of condensed aether was just another part of the “Warrior of Light” job Hydaelyn had given them.

Noon was long past and they entered a pleasant afternoon until finally they reached Fortemps Manor again. Lorven, Alphinaud and Tataru were standing at the fountain outside with their heads together like clucking chicken – they all raised their heads when they heard the wheels of Haurchefant’s chair.

The Au Ra was already starting to blush just thinking about what they were most likely talking about, and seeing Tataru’s grin it was all too obvious.

“How was your day, Nemi?”

Instead of answering this question, she answered what Haurchefant had asked much earlier, which resulted in roaring laughter from Haurchefant and Tataru, while Alphinaud looked away in disgust and Lorven turned almost as red as Nemi most likely was.

“Lahen was wondering aloud if you were still capable of one day producing children of your own with everything below your waist not working like the shameless monster she is!”

* * *

The ‘shameless monster’ came back late in the evening as a blizzard howled outside. Ice had formed on her long hair, and snowflakes were still caught in her eyelashes when she entered the welcoming hall. Even her normally cold-resistant skin looked as if it was tinted blue, and the miserable expression on her face told a story of something completely and utterly depressing. Right behind her was a man Nemi had never seen before, but he looked almost similar to her, with his eyes a tad more tired than Lahen’s.

“Good grief, what happened to you two?”

“Uh, Lord Haurchefant,” Alphinaud began slowly, “who is that man? Do you know him?”

Haurchefant, currently sitting on a normal chair because they had just finished dessert, growled. “That’s your first question when two clearly half-frozen to death and somewhat in shock enter the room?”

Lorven and Nemi quickly led the two icicles to a fireplace and watched as they melted. Twenty minutes passed and Tataru and Haurchefant came with tablets full of steaming mugs. Every person in the room got one (even the servant who had wandered in here on accident, since apparently Haurchefant and Tataru had miscalculated in their hurry) and they sat down next to the dragoon and the apparent stranger.

“W-We… spent all day trying to find Heustienne…” Lahen began, her voice dreadfully heavy.

“… You mean her body right? You yourself said she died trying to slay Graoully not too long ago.”

It was the Elezen man who spoke with a familiar voice that made everyone in the room but Haurchefant almost jump out of their skin. “She lied. Heustienne was alive but felt there was no way she could ever return home. When a friend asks you to lie in something that’s almost a desperate plea, you lie. Even if you’re as straightforward and honest to the core as Al’nebar. So she lied, until she finally cracked and admitted her falsification of Heustienne’s fate. Which leads us to the fact that a day after Garlond and his crew finished with this chair here Al’nebar, Alberic, and Heustienne’s father set out to find her. They didn’t find her – at least the latter two didn’t. Al’nebar found her, exhausted to high hell and back and yet let her go. Even Alberic who joined this later could not convince Heustienne to stay. Now then, yesterday at noon, there was a call for Al’nebar. She set out to the Western Highlands with Alberic once more – Graoully had been sighted, and surely the not-quite-dead Heustienne had to be nearby. Lo and behold, she was. The three of them took down Graoully, but yet once more Heustienne refused to come home. By all means, to Ishgard she is dead – Al’nebar’s lie made sure of that, and Heustienne knew that.”

“It’s all my fault… I agreed to help her train, without me this wouldn’t have happened…”

The man, by now clearly a rather angry Estinien, sighed. All the heated fury he was speaking with before dissolved as he continued. “No, it’s not. It would have happened regardless of your involvement. I overstepped borders when I blamed you for this entire mess; you had your hand in it, but it is not entirely your responsibility. So, to answer everyone’s question: as Al’nebar said, we were looking for Heustienne. Pointlessly and foolishly combing through as much ground as the five of us could cover, with the dim hope of finding her. The results you can figure out by yourselves.”

With that, the man fell silent and stared into his mug. Both Azure Dragoons looked tired for once. Lahen’s normally overbearing energy had faded as she then started sniffling, and Estinien leaned backwards with another sigh.

It wasn’t until Estinien had left and Lahen had fallen asleep that Haurchefant admitted he had known why Estinien of all people was so worked up over this issue despite his blatant lack of involvement until the final search.

He’d lost the only person resembling a childhood friend he ever had as well as his rival and sparring partner.

* * *

“Make sure to report via Linkpearl!”

“You make sure neither Aymeric nor Haurchefant do something idiotic and try following us, Tataru.”

“Will do, Nemi! Anything else?”

“… Give him a Linkpearl too.”

“Haurchefant?”

“No, Archbishop Thordan! Of course Haurchefant!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I fucked up my sleeping schedule churning out this chapter, and I spent all day trying to pick out typos (like Haurchefant mysteriously being referred to as "she" on multiple occasions) but idfk if I got them all. Bear with me, please.
> 
> Bad things about being rushed during character creation: I in fact borrowed Lahen's name from one of my favourite book series because my mother was nagging me to get off the brand new ps4 because she wanted to watch TV. Merry Christmas 2014.  
> I opened the first book of the series and immediately saw a line about a Lahen grabbing a tool of dark magic and making it do to her bidding and I had to remember "This is the book you nabbed your character's name from, you fool".
> 
> ...... I'm just trying to get the main plot of ff14 out of the way so I can start in the void between 3.0 and 3.1 to really get the fic going. Those three weeks gone from all kind of internet access really hurt my being up-to-date with anything, I had no idea there was gonna be a new primal in 3.1.... orz


	4. Abkühlung

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cooldown; the winds get ever more chilly.

In another life, it would have been Nemi who considered jumping off the airship and to try saving Ysayle, and Lahen would be the one to coldly hold her back with an expressionless face.

In this life however it was Lahen who jumped forwards, only to be stopped by a book being rammed against her chest and essentially forcing her to fall over and onto her behind, where she sat in a daze for a while as Nemi stared ahead grimly.

When they left Estinien, Y’shtola and Alphinaud behind to take care of the Garlean reinforcements, they all parted with dread on their faces. The Warriors of Light pushed onwards with worry and confusion, which was soon to be lifted by Midgardsormr, Tiamat, and the last ward breaking – it was Hydaelyn that spoke to them, for the first time in over a year. It lifted a lot of the heaviness from the Warriors of Light, and as Midgardsormr brought all three of them to the Aetherochemical Research Factory where Thordan and the Heaven’s Ward most likely were holed up, they all remembered their purpose. Nemi especially seemed confident that they would make it out alive and well, with everything working right as they wanted it to. Lorven seemed to share that optimism somewhat – it was the actual optimist of the group who fell short of such bright expectations. Her eyes were dull as she watched Azys Lla pass underneath them.

Lahen was still an excellent fighter by all means, but something about her movements as they fought Lahabrea and Igeyorhm seemed robotic. The fact that they had lost Ysayle was like salt on the fresh and festering wound of Heustienne, and the youngest of the Warriors of Light was exactly that: young. Haurchefant had claimed that Ishgardians and Coerthans alike were used to death being their constant companion, but maybe that wasn’t the case with a young woman who had left her rather isolated home of somewhere among the mountains of Central Coerthas to see the forest she could watch from the peaks. Lahen was a bright, bumbling optimist who always tried seeing the good thing in losses and gains. But ever since the Steps of Faith it seemed like there was a constant and stinging reminder etched into her mind.

Igeyorhm claimed it so herself shortly before the three of them managed to take her down for good with the last gift of the late Moenbryda – “You can’t save everyone!”

And she was right. Lahen cringed when she had said that. It began with Moenbryda, someone whose company Lahen had enjoyed and quite indulged in. Following her were countless men and women Lahen most likely knew on the Steps of Faith. After that the Scions, whose fates were still unknown except for that of Y’shtola. Haurchefant, though he had survived the ordeal. Heustienne. Ysayle, although the friendship between the Azure Dragoon and the leader of the heretics had been a bumpy road through doubt and Echo visions. Then they had to leave behind their last allies in this place.

Silent horror as Lahabrea met his end. It was so unceremoniously over; the man that had constantly loomed over them and always been a threat was reduced to nothing but aether. Gone in a mere second as the Archbishop became a primal out of his own free will, much like Ysayle had before him.

It wasn’t the first time they fought a primal with only the three of them. Ifrit had been an accidental run-in back when they were not a trio yet; Garuda had been a job for the remaining Scions and the remaining Scions alone; Shiva – Ysayle – had been a challenge that they had had to meet as trio since they were the only ones capable of accessing the Akh Afah Amphitheatre. The only difference was that this man was not prepared for the Warriors of Light with their renewed blessing of light, as if he had _known_ they were powerless and assumed they would remain powerless.

They had no answer for the final question of Thordan. They had no idea _what_ they were; they only knew _who_ they were. Nemi Sakuya, the Au Ra scholar who had spent most of her time in Eorzea in aether-fuelled disguise as Lalafell. Lorven S’ylver, the Seeker who had left his tribe, gotten a name from a man he’d known for a week, and then managed to live through everything thrown at him as soon as he learned thaumaturgy. Lahen Al’nebar, the Seeker whose entire extended family seemed to be made of runaways, who tackled everything without giving it much thought because she enjoyed living that much.

With Estinien succumbing to Nidhogg, the former two saw the latter one’s love for life crumble to a mask of terror.

It was quite clear that Estinien and Lahen had started somewhat getting along during the time she had spent at Ishgard while Nemi and Lorven had been out there to gather the information on how to break the barrier to Azys Lla. With everyone but the Scions and Haurchefant gone from her life to either death or getting lost along the way, the Miqo’te had started to latch onto the man as if he was her only way to remind herself of all the good she had done the realm. As Lahen confessed on Midgardsormr’s back, this was not the first time Estinien had given way to Nidhogg, though transforming into the dragon was something that had not happened before. It was the first time the other two Warriors of Light learned of what had truly happened the day Lahen and Ser Alberic had urgently set out into a snowstorm to meet Estinien at the Steel Vigil and returned lost in thought.

“ _When a friend asks you to lie in something that’s almost a desperate plea, you lie. Even if you’re as straightforward and honest to the core as Al’nebar. So she lied_ _until she finally cracked,”_ Estinien had said only a couple of days ago. In this case it hadn’t been a friend who had begged Lahen to not tell the truth, it had been the man who had taught her how to properly wield a lance. Lahen hated lying, but she knew when it was necessary – and Estinien’s story of getting run over by the remains of Svara’s horde suddenly began making a chilling amount of sense. A fight at the Steel Vigil, the place Svara had watched over and where the remnants of her horde still lingered after she was slain near Camp Dragonhead. A perfect story, a perfect fabrication.

And one part of the fabrication had grown wings and taken off.

None, not even Midgardsormr, found it in them to be particularly angry at the remaining Azure Dragoon as she started crying bitter tears and confessed her lies when Y’shtola asked about Estinien’s whereabouts.

* * *

They approached Ishgard’s airship landing rapidly. Nemi, already having told the story to Tataru over Linkpearl, found herself peeking up from her position right behind Lorven. They had essentially thrown the weeping Lahen onto the Enterprise to make sure the Azure Dragoon could calm down properly to tell however much of Ishgard and the dragoons had gathered there that the older, more experienced Azure Dragoon had fallen prey to Nidhogg's ever lingering hatred. It seemed that saying that would be enough of a price to pay for her simple lie. Surprisingly enough Midgardsormr offered help should the Miqo’te not find the words necessary to tell that whatever happened now, most of the Dravanians yet desired peace and that the ones that would start attacking sooner or later were simply not in the right mind.

The Au Ra however watched the crowd for one certain person, one certain invention of Cid.

Maybe it was still leftover adrenaline from everything that had happened following discovering Lahabrea and Igeyorhm in the Aetherochemical Research Facility. Maybe it was something else altogether. Or both mixed together. She didn’t know, she didn’t particularly care. All she knew was that there was exactly one person she wanted to see right now, and being smaller than Lorven did not help the issue.

Both the Miqo’te and Midgardsormr were the unfortunate victims of her refusing to sit still while attempting to catch a certain shade of blueish hair. While the dragon did nothing in order to avoid causing some kind of reaction from the archers, machinists and dragoons accompanying Aymeric as he waited for the Enterprise to land and dock safely, the Miqo’te made several noises of disgruntled annoyance. As usual, Lorven was the one to get the least worked up over a fight and also the first to calm down – he wasn’t the critical thinker whenever they were fighting primals for nothing.

“Ugh, fine. Break your neck for all I care,” he muttered, and then told Midgardsormr to fly a small round over the people gathered there. Which he did, not without noting that if there was anything to happen to him the Warriors of Light would have to lie in that bed later.

Thankfully everyone seemed too stunned to have two of the Warriors of Light blast in on the back of a dragon, which meant Midgardsormr could complete his round before landing beside the Enterprise.

Nemi wasn’t on his back by then, she had dismounted the great wyrm shortly before. “Dismounting” in that case meant essentially jumping off and crashing into Haurchefant, whose wheelchair could not support that sudden crash, fell over, and both of them rolled over the floor for a moment.

Both were laughing loudly, much to the distress of the servants of House Fortemps that had followed Haurchefant at the order of Count Edmond. They were immediately at the scene, fussing and worrying, but neither the Au Ra nor the Elezen seemed to particularly care in that moment.

It was a good few minutes where the adrenaline finally settled, and Nemi started to realise how tired and sore she actually was. Fighting two Ascians and then Thordan and the Heaven’s Ward was quite a feat. It wasn’t until Lahen’s voice rang across the quiet Airship Landing that both of them realised that there had been losses, and Garleans were still within the wards of Azys Lla.

“… ‘Tis true what Midgardsormr has said. In the most fleeting moment of letting everything happen as it did… I… I simply was too exhausted to react. I could do naught more than stare on with bleak horror as the scene unfolded before my eyes, and were it not for my fellow Warriors of Light and the dragon here beside me, there would be none of the two Azure Dragoons of this generation to return to Ishgard to tell the tale. Nidhogg managed to return – and he took Estinien Wyrmblood, Azure Dragoon, as gateway for that.” Considering she had spent half of the flight back to Ishgard in hysterics and apologising wildly all over the place for things she hadn’t even caused, it was almost surreal to see the Miqo’te stand there and stare down Aymeric and the dragoons beside him as she awaited his reaction. “Among other issues we will need to address, this is the most pressing matter. I suppose Nidhogg yet rests as he always does, but we lost the Eye in the progress of losing the elder Azure Dragoon, and therefore our only chance of knowing if and where he is planning his eventual attack. I apologise for my lack of foresight, and will make sure that Ishgard sees the period of peace that Ser Aymeric and Midgardsormr wish for both our people. I… I will see this through. ‘Tis my duty.”

* * *

 

“It’s almost funny to think about it. Barely anyone here knows what happened, let alone that they weren’t made part of the Eorzean Alliance as by the Archbishop’s wish. They assume he’s in charge but instead…”

“Oh, try not to overthink things. It is much easier to let Ishgard’s higher-ups be Ishgard’s higher-ups and be done with the matter.”

“Aren’t you one of those, anyway?”

“Nay. Bastard son, do not forget. Those silly little details make or break it, dearest Nemi. ‘Fore you claim us madmen and madwomen again, it is simply how this city was built and led for generations, and most likely will be for generations to come. Four noble houses, and one man to take the ‘throne’ within the Vault, essentially the head of the Church of Halone. Not really that complicated a leadership.”

The Au Ra grumbled a little while directing a couple Elezen with lumber to where the material was needed. Ishgard was rebuilding, fortifying itself. Maybe it was because the Garleans were once more on the move, and Nidhogg was back on the chessboard as well. With everyone working together like that it didn’t seem like the city was ravaged by internal conflicts between nobles and much less noble-blooded but noble-minded people. Aymeric would have to address this issue, and with being essentially the man in charge, surely he could make at least the grand majority finally face the issues within the city walls. Alas, achieving such was most likely locked behind admitting he was indeed as much as bastard son of Thordan as rumours assumed he was.

Nemi didn’t particularly wish that kind of thing on anyone, and almost immediately she threw a glance at Haurchefant.

She never wanted to pry, but she did wonder sometimes. How did people bear such a burden with naught more than a faint smile and a good-hearted response? She would have gone mad from all the doubt.

According to other people, Haurchefant had earned his position in honest, and with his father admitting this “misstep”… Nobles admitting their little “side distractions” like Count Fortemps had were rare. Often there was at least some truth in the claims of people from the Brume, but in the case of the nobles denying such… there was nothing to be done.

“It’s unfair. This… split, I mean, between the four houses and everything.”

“Oh? I am glad we do think the same, but I am also afraid there is nothing we can do. You are an outsider still – a hero, but an outsider – and at the end of the day I will always be that son that should have never been. The only ones who could address something like that would be those of the middle class, but frankly… those people are scared. It is rather easy to lose your position as someone from the middle class here. Look at Ser Al’nebar, I mean. It is almost a miracle he didn’t fall from grace when he brought home that ‘savage’ from the Noscean islands. Even worse when they adopted the orphan of possibly equally savage adventurers who had fallen to Ixali raiders.”

“That could have cost him his position?”

“Precisely so. Just as with the rest of Eorzea, interracial relationships are either ignored or generally disliked. I assume the only reason he wasn’t immediately dispelled from the dragoons was because he was already kind of a mountain hermit. A mountain hermit and an Au Ra. Other people in his position might not have been so lucky.”

“… You’re saying they were afraid to start a fight with him because he’s tall, broad-shouldered, and has a deep voice?”

“Yes?”

“… Twelve above, you all are madmen and madwomen after all.”

“Thank you; we do try our best, Warrior of Light.”

She sighed despite the smile on her face and turned to look around. It seemed as if some wounds had been patched up, and the only things left were the truly festering wounds found deep within the history of this city. That, and the deep rift between rich and poor, pure-blooded and the less fortunately ones.

Somewhere amidst that storm the Warriors of Light and the Scions seemed almost out of place.

Haurchefant hummed. “You know, it wouldn’t be all that bad if Aymeric managed to convince people to open the gates for traders and merchants and maybe some adventurers. Ishgard has been long walled off, but considering there is a forest full of plenty plants that do not grow here…”

“Active trading, huh… Oh… Oh dear, better not. My sister might…”

“Sister?”

“… Oh, hell. Well, not my blood-relative, but more… Adopted, like Lahen was. But anyway, she’s a merchant and a particularly… err…”

He broke into laughter after seeing the expression on her face.

“Hey, don’t laugh! I love her dearly and all, but she can be so… _persistent_ … for a lack of better word…”

“I would love meeting her. She sounds much more engaging a family member to meet than my brothers were.”

Nemi groaned, dramatically turning around and sitting down on the edge of the fountain. Winter was just about to start fully, Ishgardians and Coerthans alike claimed. They seemed to have some sort of supernatural ability to feel heavy snowfall before it even took place. Then again, the snowfall was still aetherially charged from the Calamity. Nemi too felt something was about to happen, and aether was involved, and Lorven too had admitted waking with a fuzzy head. Maybe the people of Ishgard simply felt aether better than the average Eorzean, and the fact that most of the people here were descendants of those who had partaken in Ratatoskr’s eyes…

A cold shudder ran down her spine.

It made a chilling amount of sense why the Ascians had attempted to dig their claws into Ishgard. As bad as everything had become, maybe it had been good that Archbishop Thordan was not easily swayed by promise of power to _ruin_ – the fact he did desire the power to _purge_ was all that was needed to make the leader of Ishgard effectively turn against his city. She stared at the scales on the back of her hand.

Ascians… Ascians…

Whose bodies had Igeyorhm and Lahabrea been in? Igeyorhm, locked away and blown to aether as she had been, had given no hints on whose body it was. Lahabrea had been cleaved in half – there would have been no way telling whose body it had once been, the bursting into aether as Igeyorhm had done thing aside. As a matter of fact, Nabriales too must have used some kind of body, or else none of these three would have been able to make contact with other mortals like that. Only a certain kind of living being was susceptible to Ascian control – Thancred had been such a person, and whoever those other three people had been…

Another shudder and Nemi shook her head before looking up at the sky.

“I indeed would love to hear what’s going through your pretty head sometimes.”

“Ascians. Did you say something before that?”

“… Truly? That is what your mind is set upon - Ascians?”

“Normally it’s more silly little things like ‘How do I stop my friends from doing stupid things’ and ‘I wonder what this spell I read about does’, but right now it’s Ascians.”

Haurchefant laughed once more. “Considering we’re here to help rebuild the city, I assumed you would be thinking about something like that. But then again, I suppose Warriors of Light live in their own little world sometimes.”

“… Yeah, I guess we do…”

* * *

 

“Oh, I’d give anything for having a snowless season again!”

“I don’t think Coerthas or Ishgard had snowless seasons since the Calamity, Lorven.”

“Ugh!”

The oldest Warrior of Light sneezed and rubbed his hands together. Even though he was wearing thick layers of warm clothing, the desert-born Seeker still froze from the tip of his ears to the tip of his tail. The fact he wore two hats generously rimmed with wool and fur on top of each other did not help his hearing – his ears were squashed somewhere under there, and the poor guy was still eyeing a third hat in her pocket with a pleading light in his eyes.

Nemi herself just laughed. She did freeze too, having been raised in La Noscea and all, but she had quickly gotten somewhat used to the fact that Ishgard was never _warm_. It had less cold, averagely cold, and bitterly cold temperatures, and right now it was what she would call averagely cold.

The wind howled through the street they were in, and a large amount of snowfall followed that gust. They had to shield their eyes from wind and snow alike. Most of the fountain Nemi had sat at yesterday had frozen solid over during the night, and the grey skies had offered nothing but snow all day. A typical afternoon in the Ishgardian winter, if a servant at Fortemps Manor was to be believed. Since winter lasted the longest up here, it was what they would see for months – back during their prolonged time of hiding away at Camp Dragonhead, it had been winter too.

“Why do you reckon we’re supposed to be out here? No one’s even around.”

“You did hear that someone important requested to meet us here.”

“Blech. Sounds more like they wanted to freeze us to dea-ACHOO!”

“Lorven?”

“Ah… choo!”

They’d spent almost the entire day out here, and Nemi almost believed that they had only been lured out here. She had assumed it had been Lorven’s natural suspicion and slight paranoia (and general much more level-headed thinking) speaking for a second, but as she stared up into the sky all she got was a face full of snow.

It was even too cold for him to attempt casting fire spells, the danger of him setting himself on fire due to his layered clothing aside. His teeth were chattering, and Nemi found herself shivering more and more.

They had no idea how much time passed until the sound of armoured boots scraping over the stone paving sounded through the windy howls.

“Seven hells, _what_ are you bumbling idiots doing out _here_?”

They looked around and met Lahen’s gaze with cold desperation. The Azure Dragoon now finally wore armour befitting her title – black and polished, with elaborate gold markings on it.

“Wait, where’d you get that armour…?”

“Where I got that set of Drachen mail isn’t the point here, Nemi. You’re standing outside in a _blizzard_ , for Halone’s sake! The average Coerthan like me can take an hour or three in such conditions, but _you two_? … How _long_ have you even been out here, Lorven’s face is almost entirely _blue_! Ugh, no don’t even open your mouth to complain, the both of you are coming with me, **now**.”

The youngest Seeker normally never spoke like that. At least not to her friends and fellow Warriors of Light. That sudden mature tone seemed to not fit with the girl they had seen taking absurd challenges just because she had been challenged. The way she shoved the two half-frozen Warriors to the dragoon quarters was also something she normally never did – whenever Lahen wanted people to see something, she grabbed their arms or hands and started pulling violently. It was as if the normally overbearing energy spike had finally managed to pool down a little. And Nemi and Lorven alike knew that Lahen being calm was an almost abnormal state, something to be concerned about.

The times where Lahen had been cool and collected before were always related to her anger or exhaustion going beyond the maximum level. During the first days of their stay at Camp Dragonhead she had been unnaturally quiet and unresponsive, the only thing giving away her thoughts being the fact that her eyes seemed to almost glow with sheer hatred. When they had raised their weapons against the Ascians and the Archbishop shortly thereafter. There had been many such instances recently, but the fact she had cracked even further following their narrow escape from the Aetherochemical Research Facility… Her general emotional response to almost everything aside, Lahen had barely ever cried or wildly apologised over and over. Sure, she had bathed people in tirades full of swears that made sailors blush, but other than outbursts of rage and hatred, she never openly showed grief or disorientation. The only time Nemi could recall right off the bat was the time she had attempted to find the missing Heustienne.

Inside the dragoon quarters Lahen simply had shoved them in front of a fireplace. Even the room she had brought them into seemed void of life, as if the owner hadn’t been here for a good while.

It was the first time they had seen the Miqo’te since she had sworn that she would take the position left empty by Estinien upon their return. Aymeric had personally requested her presence after that, and the day Ishgard rejoined the Eorzean Alliance the youngest Warrior of Light had simply left the city to once more look for Heustienne.

The room was warm and comfortable, and soon Lorven started peeling away layer after layer of his attempt at keeping the cold out. At the same time Lahen was slowly removing the armour, gently placing it on the bed. The bed was the only thing in this room that looked used, in fact.

Nemi cleared her throat. “Lahen, is that your room here? Every dragoon has one, I recall.”

“Not mine. It’s only temporary, I hope.”

“…”

“…” The female Seeker narrowed her eyes a little, and Nemi let out a nervous laugh.

“… I… I see.”

“No, you quite don’t, but whatever. What in the seven hells were you two doing out there?”

The two older Warriors of Light quickly explained. With every word they saw Lahen’s expression grow darker and darker, until finally there was some sort of grim finality on her face. Lorven only sneezed once more, and Nemi sniffled a little. The silence in the room was heavy.

“Well, congrats. Someone tried to lure you out and let you freeze out there, and they would have succeeded had I not been out checking something at the Steps of Faith and returned at the time I did. You’ll get sick, but you’ll live if you rest a little. Not here, mind you. I’ll escort you back to Fortemps Manor in a bit.”

“Lahen,” the other Seeker began, his voice quiet, “is there any reason why you chose to… live in his room?”

“Even if there were, would you understand? I do not think you would – you’re _outsiders_. My friends, but still _outsiders_ , and dragoon traditions and such are lost on those who never wielded a lance.”

“Lahen. That can’t be good for you…”

“I’m _fine_.”

It was obvious she wasn’t, but they could have been talking to a stone wall and probably gotten more reaction out of it. The genuinely upbeat Seeker seemed to be a story of the past – she had been replaced by a stoic Azure Dragoon. Though Lahen would never say something like this, Nemi felt like it was hanging in the room without being approached by either of them; but the question was mirrored in Lahen’s untypically blank eyes.

_‘Why did you get to keep Haurchefant, while I lost everything and everyone else?’_

Nemi wasn’t even sure if she had an answer for that. It had been a prayer, a desperate plea, which Hydaelyn had answered in her strange ways. All the younger Warrior of Light had gotten was the agony of watching other people she cared about leave or die as she was unable to do anything.

How many of the dragoons that went after Graoully after Lahen reported Heustienne’s supposed death had been at least comrades in her eyes? How had the Azure Dragoon overcome the rift between her and Ysayle that she felt her loss that heavily? How in the world did she manage to stay as dryly sane as she was now, when the other Azure Dragoon was somewhere out there as Nidhogg, her sworn enemy?

The longer Nemi thought about it on the way back to Fortemps Manor, the more certain she became that Lahen could have easily gone mad from grief alone if there was even one more unnecessary death in that list. The fact that the remaining Azure Dragoon could still go mad was chilling – and that was not even taking into consideration how much she cared about her fellow Warrior of Light, because there were simply no words for that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I need to chew down my chapter length a little. What burned me out with Erinnerungskreise (which I still mean to finish) wasn't just the fact I was churning out 10k words chapters, but also the fact my passion for Kingdom Hearts kinda left.  
> Please excuse any typos I overlooked, sharing a room with a big-ass moth when you got a phobia of flying insects is counterproductive at best and nightmare-inducing at worst.
> 
> Ooooriginally there was one last paragraph but in an attempt to stop me from making this chapter 6k words long, Word froze at 2am and restored the document right to where this chapter ends. I need to save before I hit backspace apparently, this isn't the first time it froze after I hit backspace twice. The joys of Windows Vista, I suppose!


	5. Wälder und Wolle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Forests and yarn. They find a missing companion - and another loose thread.

The remaining Azure Dragoon was right – both Nemi and Lorven were out of commission for a week. Lorven pathetically bemoaned the fact he was not made for such weather; Nemi herself took it with a little more dignity.

It was a clear day, after a week of snowfall. The sun almost seemed to burn down, as much as it could in winter; the snow reflected the sunshine intensely. Haurchefant had warned them that they could actually get sunburns in winter, but Nemi admitted it sounded even more ridiculous than a story of her single-handedly slaying a primal. After warning her he had set out. Something about taking the chair to Cid. Therefore Nemi decided to spend the day down at Foundation, near the Brume.

Even now people were busy with repairs, but some bards or minstrels from within Ishgard’s walls were singing and playing their instruments here. The Au Ra was listening to the tune – she knew that song. Lahen, back before taking up the spear, had sung it multiple times.

“I thought this song was familiar. Though I had not assumed she had brought it with her from a place she quite obviously despises.”

Nemi blinked open her eyes. Alphinaud stood there with his arms crossed, and Y’shtola was simply staring ahead. Though “staring” was probably not the right word; she was reading the aether. The scholar had known something about Y’shtola was off from the moment she had awoken, but it hadn’t been until the day Ishgard rejoined the Eorzean Alliance that the Scion had admitted her blindness (begrudgingly so).

“She’s Coerthan, after all. Why shouldn’t she know a song from the only major city in this region?”

The young Elezen shrugged. Was it just Nemi or had the boy grown a little in that month after Thordan’s demise?

“If it is from Ishgard at all. It could be Dravanian or Coerthan.”

“Maybe. You two aren’t here to discuss songs with me, are you? I would make a horrid bard.”

“Nay,” Y’shtola laughed a little, “we are not here to make you sing and pluck birds from the sky with arrows, rest assured. Tataru was in quite a frenzy earlier today; apparently there have been news about one of our missing comrades.”

Nemi choked on thin air. “News?!”

“Yes, quite indeed. We were trying to find all of you, but alas it seems that the Warriors of Light are rather hard to find these days. We’ve been told Lahen is currently not in the city, and Lorven simply vanished from our sights until we finally found him at Skysteel Manufactory. You too slipped from our grasp for a while.”

Alphinaud rolled his eyes. “Can we get to the point, Y’shtola? If not, allow me. We were hoping you might join us on an expedition to Little Solace.”

“… Little Solace? What do Sylphs have to do with this news?”

“Wait and see. Lorven claimed both of you were well enough to attempt teleporting – we left a messenger at the dragoon’s quarters, should the Azure Dragoon return and feel like joining us.”

* * *

 

Teleporting was one of her least favourite things. It wasn’t as much the whole “bursting into aether to instantly reform in another place” thing, but more the fact that something always went wrong. There were reports of attempted teleports where people turned up with their legs missing, or pieces of their clothing simply gone. Nemi was fortunate enough to return in one piece, but she noticed the few centimetres of Lorven’s hair that had vanished without a trace, as if it had never existed.

Sometimes the missing pieces were as harmless as that, and there were even beneficial effects sometimes (she remembered a story of someone who had lost their glasses while teleporting, only to realise that they had also lost their bad eyesight and could live without glasses after that botched teleport), but Nemi hated it anyway.

At least the Twelveswood was calm today, and even the gnats seemed to be taking a break from attempting to swarm Little Solace for once. The short walk from Hawthorne Hut to Little Solace happened with no issues or holdups at all, and they bowed to the Sylphs stationed at its entrance. The members of this peculiar beast tribe only welcomed their walking friends and paid them no other attention – ever since defeating Ramuh it seemed that the Sylphs were almost a little afraid of the Warriors of Light.

Y’shtola and Alphinaud led them through the settlement in silence. None of the Scions dared talking – it was already evening, and therefore too much noise might have attracted more trouble than it was worth. It was Lorven who eventually broke the silence of the woods.

“So, what or who did we come here for again?”

The female Seeker and the young Elezen looked at each other, then simply gestured to the bridge that led into the territory of the ‘Touched Ones’. No one was particularly welcome there, but the tempered Sylphs were quite terrified of the Warriors of Light. It made traversing through the darkest part of the Twelveswood at least somewhat manageable. Unless some decided to play pranks on them.

“As it was reported, the tempered Sylphs have gotten their hands on a person. The Order of the Twin Adder has attempted to recover this person to no avail – they were most likely taken to the tribal aetherite, if worst comes to worst. But yes, we were specifically asked to investigate that, and someone did tell Tataru that the person taken looked similar to ‘a walking one who was here before with the strong ones’. So, by all means, it could mean it is one of our missing comrades. Thancred, Yda and Papalymo have all been here with you during the Ramuh incident, and they are still missing. Mayhap ‘tis one of these three that has gotten themselves spirited away by tempered Sylphs.” Y’shtola simply gestured at the bridge in front of them after finishing.

Nemi and Lorven looked at each other. Yda and Papalymo would never go separate ways unless they actually had to – a close bond existed between the thaumaturge and the pugilist, closer than almost even the connection to the Mothercrystal that all people blessed with the Echo shared. Thancred’s disappearance, on the other hand, was something that had happened when Y’shtola had cast the spell that had carried her all the way into the Lifestream. It was quite clear that the Miqo’te still desired to find this man, even if she was not too partial on his usual antics.

“So, it’s a trip straight through Sylph-controlled territory once more. Great.” Lorven didn’t sound too happy – this place was not Ishgard, but he still was not fond of this particular part of the Twelveswood.

“… Ugh. And that at night.”

“And here I thought Elezen did not care about the time. Honestly, I and Y’shtola are the diurnal ones here, not you, Alphinaud.”

Once more the teenager rolled his eyes before grabbing his tome. He slapped it open almost carelessly and took out a feather, scribbling over the clear signs for a summoning. Just a moment later the bright red Carbuncle that was so unlike any that a simple arcanist was taught at the guild in Limsa appeared. Nemi followed suit, bringing forth Lily (though everyone else would call this particular appearance of hers “Eos” for simplicity). Arcanist and scholar nodded at their summons before stepping forwards to cross the bridges first. Somewhere behind her Lorven was complaining about the lack of front-row fighters in this party, and then hurried after them.

Their march through the Sylph territory was uneventful except for one treant groaning to life nearby – Y’shtola immediately took care of it by putting it back to sleep. It was _too_ quiet, in fact. Normally playful Sylphs would have attempted to sabotage them already, just like they had back when they were attempting to find out if Ramuh had indeed been summoned or not. Now there was only the eerie silence of the Twelveswood at night that followed them instead of muffled giggling. Even the normally fast asleep Seekers were wide awake at this unusual time of the day, their ears pricked for any sort of strange sound.

There was none.

The forest simply answered with a gentle breeze, with leaves rustling loudly. The Scions took a deep breath as they continued onwards – the dark of night was slowly but steadily replaced by a familiar violet gloom. Even the border between the forest and the territory of the Sylphs was strangely quiet. Again, the suspicious lack of aforementioned tempered members of the Beast Tribe was the most glaring thing wrong with this scene.

“Hold it. There is something in front of us but…” Y’shtola’s voice was hushed as she took a few steps forwards and bent down. “… A dead Sylph. A tempered one, mind you, not one from Little Solace, but a dead Sylph indeed.”

No one said anything as the Miqo’te stood back up and shook her head slightly. She was, out of everyone present, most likely the one to see better than the rest. After all Lorven was a Seeker punished with a glaring blindness in the dark, and who even knew how Elezen worked. Nemi herself only saw dim shapes in the gloomy light.

“Lorven. I think it is safe to assume we cannot sneak in. Please, would you be as kind as to use a spell of yours to light up the dark a little?” Alphinaud’s voice was dry. “After all, you _are_ a Warrior of Light.”

It was obvious the Warrior of Light rolled his eyes before snapping his fingers a few times. It was hard using spells without being in battle, so it took him a couple of tries until finally he produced the desired spell: a small, floating ball of fire that whirled around him until at last he managed to make it stop right above his open and outstretched hand.

There was indeed a dead Sylph as Y’shtola had said.

“Arrows... Those look exactly like the kind the Adders use. But they said no Adders got this far in their search for that person yet…”

“Then someone was lying. That, or there’s something worse at work here. Something… darker.” Nemi crossed her arms. “It might not be Ascians, but maybe Garleans. I hope it is Garleans – we cannot deal with Ascians as we are, blessed by Hydaelyn or not. We’re short a woman and a proper catalyst, since we used the ones Moenbryda left us to slay Nabriales and Igeyorhm.”

“… Gah… Don’t say such things; I could do without having to blow up an Ascian… Or watch one get cleaved in half…”

Lorven shuddered as another breeze shook the trees around them. The further they went, the more Sylphs they found scattered around. Someone had clearly busted in here with the intent to slay as many of these creatures as possible. The silence of the forest, normally serene even in the middle of the night, seemed oppressive, choking. Their advance was slow and careful, until finally a loud rustle broke the silence. The Scions froze.

“Ugh! Why won’t they give up already, I’m sick of running!”

“This one told the walking one the blue ones were not going to give up! The walking one is such an airhead!”

“Oh, shut your trap, will you! You were the ones who went all ‘Walking one is an intruder! Capture her!’ and caused this to happen! I told you guys I was being followed!”

“Pah! Walking one really is dumb, these ones should have known!”

“ _These ones_ are dead, you idiot! Shut up and run before they catch us!”

“Didn’t the walking one punch the blue ones good?”

“Look, I’m in a hurry!”

A familiar voice broke through the bushes, a Sylph right on her heels. Nemi and Lorven felt their breath hitch in their throats – the last time they had seen her had been from behind a grate in Ul’dah after the Scions had been accused of assisting the Warriors of Light with regicide. Yda and Papalymo had stayed behind to take on wave after wave of people on pursuit; neither of them had caught up as they had promised to.

When the two newcomers at the scene saw the fire they stopped dead. The Sylph let out a frightened whimper, and Yda immediately dropped into a fighting stance.

“Here for more? I ain’t gonna give up that easily, you know!”

Every Scion sighed in relief before Alphinaud cleared his throat.

“It is good to see you unharmed after finding hundreds of slain Sylphs. We had assumed the worst immediately after the party had been so rudely crashed and after finding this region in this state.”

“… Alphinaud? Oh goodness, Alphinaud! Are those the Warriors of Light with you?”

“Yes, and no. Those are indeed Lorven and Nemi, but the fourth of our merry little band is Y’shtola.”

“Y’shtola! Oh, ooh. I’m so glad you guys are unharmed—“

A split second later the Sylph that had followed Yda around let out some sort of squeak and hurried ahead to hide behind the Scions. Yda herself only sighed and turned around.

“You guys are more persistent than a gnat infestation!”

The pugilist immediately punched whichever unfortunate person stood there, and then looked around for more opponents. Her companions hurried to her side, but found nothing.

“We’re gonna have to report this mess to the Adders… and probably to the Seedseer…” Lorven began, and everyone (even the Sylph) agreed immediately.

* * *

 

“… So, why won’t you help me find Nidhogg?”

“…”

“Answer me, Midgardsormr. I am the Azure Dragoon, and you yourself made me promise my duty to Ishgard. _Where_ is Nidhogg?”

“… He yet rests.”

“That’s not an answer. Give me his location, _now_.”

“… I cannot.”

“Seven hells! Stop being vague for the sake of being vague! There’s the peace between your people and mine on the line!”

“Trust me, youngest one chosen by Hydaelyn, if I but knew where he resideth, I would tell thee. ‘Tis not the Aery, as thou just made certain. Wherever he rests, I cannot tell – it is as if he hath truly died; his aether escapes me.”

“…”

“… He is no threat to Ishgard yet. No call hath sounded, the horde yet stagnates and even the heretics seem uncertain what is to be done. There are those that would help Nidhogg should he call; but there are those who would stand beside Ishgard as their Lady Iceheart hath wished.”

“… Ugh.”

* * *

 

He was enjoying the commotion. It wasn’t very often that such a display of companionship happened within Ishgard’s borders, even less so inside House Fortemps. Tataru had broken into tears upon seeing Yda enter the manor with a strange violet thing in tow, and the Lalafell had not stopped crying since. Alphinaud was trying to calm down the strange violet thing (apparently a tempered Sylph?) as it was howling out strings of words that made no sense to any Ishgardian present. Lorven, despite the noise, had fallen asleep face first on the table and was snoring loudly.

“Say, do I at least make a comfortable pillow to lean on?”

“Nah. But it means I have to spend less time… shifting all my weight around awkwardly. We barely slept at all after setting out to find Yda, we kind of had to help clear up quite the mess in the Twelveswood after finding her.”

“Which is why this amusing little thing followed your?”

“Guess she and Yda made a pact to get out of the death-ridden territory together. Since the Sylphs of Little Solace would never accept a Touched One as one of them, she had no choice but to either return to where the Twin Adder was gathering up the corpses of most of her fellow Touched Ones, or to come with us. We just can’t leave her out there in the cold, at all.”

Haurchefant laughed. Only the Warriors of Light could manage to find a lost companion and have a Sylph follow them to even the coldest part of all Eorzea.

“Truly, you are a blessing to both this house and Ishgard.”

“… All three of us?”

“… Well, maybe only you. Actually, really only you. The other two make for a chaotic combination at best and worst at the same time. You however, ‘tis as if Hydaelyn and the Twelve sent an angel.”

Nemi muttered something under her breath and looked out of the window. She was quite certain people would start talking if they saw how her face had gone deep red from that.

* * *

 

The Elezen sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

“No, we have not heard of the dragoons yet. Alberic said that she returned, gathered up the squad, and immediately set out again. We have not heard of them since.”

Haurchefant raised an eyebrow as Nemi breathed in sharply. Three days had passed since the Scions had set out to find Yda, and nobody had seen the third Warrior of Light for days. Haurchefant had quite literally dragged Nemi to this place to inquire – as he had claimed “you yourself would not ask at all, bless your heart, but you must needs know ‘ere you go mad from worry”. Aymeric had precious little information to share, however, as they now realised.

“In fact she has not been telling anyone where she was going or what she was doing lately. She would wake the earliest, go to bed the latest, and every time someone asked her she just answered with a long and quiet glare not unlike what Estinien used to shoot people. I quite fear she burdened herself with too much responsibility than she can bear – nothing against Al’nebar and his way of raising her, but she was rather well off compared to other middle-class adoptees. Mayhap we overestimated her mental and emotional capacity for taking over the job as Azure Dragoon.”

“So, in other words, you know nothing, Ser Aymeric.” Haurchefant let out a sigh. “Thanks for the help. Nemi, let us try asking the other dragoons; we will learn little here.”

Nemi blinked and followed the man, but not before shooting Aymeric another confused look. It seemed both the current head of Ishgard and the Warrior of Light were at their wits ends about both Haurchefant’s reaction and Lahen’s absence. After that silent exchange she hurried after the silver-haired Elezen.

“… Did you know she sleeps in Estinien’s room?”

“She did? That does bode ill, if naught else.”

“Uh…”

“Your friend has clearly lost her grip on reality, and slipped off into what dragoons call compulsive obsession. It happens to the best of them, but at some point in their lives they lose control and the dragon takes over their head. Generally the idea is to beat it out of them through rigorous training as far as I know, but there is possibly not a single person here who could give her enough of a hit on the head to—“

Somewhere behind them the sound of metal scratching wood sounded. The voice sounded weary, exhausted – but was unmistakably familiar. “Hit who on the head?”

The missing Warrior of Light. Her eyes reflected the dim light and her expression was frozen. She looked outright furious to see those two people standing there, at least that was what it looked like. Nevertheless Nemi exhaled in relief. Even if she was in no good state health-wise, she was at least still alive. That was the most important thing for now.

Haurchefant however scoffed. He looked annoyed somehow, and Nemi started fidgeting a little until at least he broke the icy silence.

“And where have you been?”

“Does that matter?” The Seeker of the Sun merely shrugged, her expression unchanging.

“It quite does, Lady Al’nebar. You had your friends and allies worried.”

“Friends and allies, eh. The only allies I have are the Scions of the Seventh Dawn, but they can well do without me as I am needed elsewhere. Oh, do not look at me so. I know full well what I can do and what I should do at which time – I can strategize myself. Who do you think you are, Fortemps? My strategist? My father? You are no such thing, high-born or not. But, since you so dearly care about what I was doing; I was searching for Nidhogg. Nothing more. Can’t exactly call that a crime, all circumstances considered.” Lahen stopped her half-hearted explanation there to yawn loudly. “Have a good day, I’m going to bed.”

Nemi watched her fellow Warrior of Light turn around on the heel and march off towards the room she occupied for the time being. Her movements were sluggish, which immediately made Nemi wonder if Lahen had slept at all in these past three days. She probably had had precious little sleep, if any at all: a Seeker of the Sun that went to bed at noon was a strange sight to behold indeed.

“Lah—“

“Leave it be. She is in no mood to speak to us like a sensible adult.”

“But, Haurchefant, she…” Nemi watched as Lahen reached a door, opened it and slammed it shut after passing through. She cringed a little at the sound.

“She will speak when the time is right, worry not.” He shrugged. “Right now she would only wall herself off more if you did speak to her… Though, I wonder, what caused her to shut down like that? She was always loud and did not care about anything the slightest.”

There was something stirring deep within Nemi – was it plain worry, or some sort of deja-vu? It could have been both, but she only took a deep breath. “She cared more than she let us believe, most likely. Careless, yes, but empathic. She’s… overloaded, to put it simply. She needs to discharge, to calm down and focus, but… I guess it’s as you said. She became obsessed with the idea of protecting Ishgard and getting the second Azure Dragoon back. If this does not get better any time soon, we’ll have to resort to knocking her out. Maybe everyone will help us.”

“We could take on her as team. I sit on her legs, you do the knocking out.” He was joking and Nemi knew that, but she couldn’t help but imagine that for a second. A moment to late she realised she was grinning to herself. “Ah, that smile is exactly the reply I was hoping for. You could raise dead Dark Knights with that smile, my dear.”

* * *

 

Repairs were almost done at this point. The workers were chattering more now, an upbeat noise to drown out the silence of a sunny day in winter. It is not warm, by any means, but no snow meant that people could work without being in immediate danger of freezing to death.

“Do you think if one were to toss him a ball of yarn, he would drop whatever he was holding and go after it?”

“Haurchefant! Don’t ever say that around Lorven, he may be a bit awkward but he could burn your face right off if you as much suggested that! Seekers may be active and all that, but they are not household cats…”

“So, did I make you scratching his ears the other day up?”

“… Uh, well no, not exactly but…”

The man laughed loudly as he watched Nemi stutter and turn slightly red – it was indeed some kind of habit to scratch Lorven’s ears whenever they were in the same room and not discussing anything. It had something to do with the Miqo’te’s habit of sitting on the floor. Normally he was the tallest out of the Warriors of Light, but since he almost always sat on the floor when they were in the same inn room, Nemi had gotten used to absent-mindedly scratching his ears. Interestingly enough the Seeker never once complained about it. When she had tried the same with Lahen the dragoon had almost gone berserk, grabbed Nemi’s hand, pulled her off the couch and then bitten her arm. The Au Ra thought the difference between her two companions was amusing.

“A-Anyway! L-Looks like they’re almost done with fixing the f-final part… Everything came along nicely…”

“Hm. Truly it did.” Haurchefant tapped his chin and looked up at Nemi with a small grin. “What must one do for you to scratch his ears?”

“E-eeh?!”

Nemi immediately threw her hands up to her face and stumbled backwards a little, desperately trying to look somewhere else. She was turning bright red and had no idea how to stop it from happening – and apparently it was exactly what Haurchefant had aimed for.

She didn’t see, but he grabbed something from his pockets and almost instantly tossed it over to the oldest Warrior of Light. Lorven was currently trying to help place some wood correctly, and whatever Haurchefant had thrown bounced off the Miqo’te’s head.

“Mm?”

A ball of yarn – Nemi almost screamed right there on the spot, were she not currently trying to hide the fact she was deep red. All that escaped her was a garbled groan as Lorven pricked his ears into her and Haurchefant’s direction. She was mumbling and the Elezen man was laughing to himself. The Miqo’te flicked his ears back forwards, said something to the people he was working with and finally bent down to grab the yarn. Nemi simply wished the earth would open and swallow her whole, but naturally no such thing would happen.

Thankfully Lorven wore an amused smile as he walked over and tossed the ball of yarn to Haurchefant.

“Nice try. Your aim was a little off, I’m quite certain someone would react if they saw it instead of it bouncing off their head. It still won’t work with me, but maybe someone else. Better luck next time, Lord Haurchefant. Oh, and by the way, if you keep it that loose the poor Miqo’te of your choosing might strangle themselves in the heat of the moment. Make sure the yarn’s rolled into a tighter ball.”

With that Lorven turned back around with a laugh and went back to his work. Nemi still wished she could just disappear.

“Huh. He’s a good sport when he’s not scared mindless.”

“Please… please don’t do that ever again.”

“Duly noted. My question of whether you would scratch my ears still stands, however.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OOPS GUESS WHO IMMEDIATELY GOT CAUGHT UP IN GETTING HER LAZY BUTT DRAGGED TO DO CONTENT SHE COULD NOT DO DUE TO NOT BEING SUBBED/AROUND FOR A MONTH and who then completely forgot about writing since she got up at 8am all week to waste time on the ps4... I did.... I'm not proud of having finished the Rising 30 minutes after it went live ok...


	6. Im Flüsterton

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a gentle whisper; and a pact is forged.

“It is rather simple, really.”

“Tch…”

“What you need is someone to guide you to where you belong, Azure Dragoon. Every Azure Dragoon needs a voice that guides them, but Nidhogg has long since abandoned you in favour of your elder. Midgardsormr and Hydaelyn have better things to do than spend time with one who attempts to bend fate and reverse what they believe cannot be reversed. Your friends and allies? One became Nidhogg; the other yet paces around in blizzards desperately hoping to overcome the inner dragon; one’s busy being himself; two busy themselves with finding the rest of your allies… and two are in love. What does that leave you with, Warrior of Light? Nothing. You are completely on your own.”

“I know that. What’s your point?”

“We both certainly lack knowledge on how to reverse the process. What I can offer you is guidance, Azure Dragoon. You are lost in a tangle of webs deliberately placed by Hydaelyn and Midgardsormr, and you cannot know when they will cut your strings to discard you like the puppet you are in this play. Dravanians and Ishgardians will most likely end up with a truce, but only once Nidhogg is taken out of commission. You wish to avoid killing him, Ishgard and the Dravanians following Midgardsormr wish him slain. There is naught to do to return the great wyrm to his sanity; he has long since completely lost anything resembling it – and the Azure Dragoon too was driven by an unquenchable desire for revenge and blood. ‘Tis quite obvious: should the newfound alliance find Nidhogg before you do, he and the Azure Dragoon both die, which is what even I would consider and unjust death in the case of the man.”

“…”

“I know where Nidhogg is – all you need is a way to turn him back to normal. You on your own, since teaming up for this would mean that the outcome of both dragon and dragoon being slain would happen. … Warrior of Light, know this: Too many cooks spoil the broth. What was Hydaelyn thinking, thrusting three into the role of her glorious saviours? Either way, I will leave you. Should you decide that my offer is worth it, you need only come by the place you learned of Ishgard’s treachery and say you accept. Fare you well, Azure Dragoon.”

“… Wait. Wait a second! Why are you offering me this? What reason do I have to trust you?”

“No reason at all – you hate me, I hate you. What I offer is a momentary truce between you and me. Just know I do not lie. I know where Nidhogg is, and I know not how to reverse the dragon’s grip on the other Azure Dragoon. That is something you will have to learn.”

* * *

 

Sneaking into the Great Gubal Library as team of five was easier than fighting the way through it as team of two. Alphinaud at the very least seemed to enjoy the trip, whereas Y’shtola warily glanced around. “She did say she would reinstall the security measures” was all the Miqo’te said before narrowing her eyes a little and following the group. Yda seemed positively psyched to be out of the cold. Lorven and Nemi were focused on the task at hand: finding a book. Or at least something that might help.

“Aetherial reversal… Quite honestly, I do not think it will work, should we ever…”

“We won’t know until we try.”

“Still, do you truly think dragonkind will be affected by this? After all, according to what you told us…”

“Midgardsormr and Nidhogg are not the same, Y’shtola. What’s more important, Midgardsormr was ever lingering, recovering, and taking the Blessing from us three as Hydaelyn apparently permitted was the energy boost he needed to at least recover somewhat. His body was peculiarly small, especially compared to the giant corpse and all. Either way, Nidhogg lacked a body but not his eyes, he must have used some kind of aetheric energy to take over Estinien. Or something. We’re in the dark about how that whole ‘inner dragon being a great wyrm’ thing actually works, and the only person we could ask… Well, she’s… she’s not going to speak to us like a normal person would.”

Alphinaud, who had been messing around with several books at once, turned around and looked at Nemi. The Au Ra could clearly see he was thinking about something, but all he eventually did was shrug.

“She will turn up sooner or later. If nothing else, we could ask her parents – one of the few positive things about her being native Coerthan, I suppose.”

Lorven snorted. “Last time I met her aunt she was threatening some guy with an axe. We’d do better speaking to her uncle than anything else, but we shouldn’t forget that that guy’s even taller than any Elezen we work with.”

“Quite so, yes. However, we have not spoken much with the man, and he still is a dragoon. If he cannot help us catch his ridiculous daughter, we can still ask him basic questions. I am quite convinced he will tell us more than Ser Alberic did.”

Nemi raised an eyebrow. “… Ser Alberic? But, Alphinaud we never… Oh gods above. What did you _do_?”

“I might have, err… stood in the way. He was rushing out of the base like a madman yelling something like ‘Wait, you cannot!’ and then crashed into me. Whomever he was attempting to chase, he lost sight of them because of, uh, that little thing. If anything I earned some nasty glares lately, naught more.”

The Scions quietly looked at their tactician, who was red to the tips of his long ears. He was completely and utterly embarrassed, but after a moment Alphinaud shook his head.

“It’s not like he would have told us anything to begin with! Azure Dragoons, former or not, are strange people. I mean, the man certainly didn’t look happy to see all of us enter Ishgard. Lahen herself has some really odd quirks and issues now that she’s the sole Azure Dragoon. And Estinien, well, he… You know what I mean!”

“We… don’t, actually.”

“Ugh! Forget it. Aetherial reversal, right? All those books here are about cooking. One mentions feathers ripped from Garuda’s wings as ingredient. Wrong section.” With that the teenager marched off.

They looked after him in silence before Lorven let out a barking laugh. “Good to see he finally hit the most awkward phase of puberty. Only thing he lacks is a growth spurt and then a few mood swings, and we’re finally safe from having a half-sized kid ordering us around.”

“It’s not as if you have enough dignity to be ordered around by grown men, Mister I-Challenged-And-Lost-Against-My-Tribe’s-Nunh.”

* * *

 

“… You are aware that blocking my way is going to do you little good, do you? Fortemps, this is ridiculous.”

“Well, you withdrawing and vanishing off to Fury-knows-where for days is preciously little help, Al’nebar.”

The Miqo’te answered the Elezen’s glare with a blank stare. She seemed to lose concentration for a moment, something that happened a lot before but Haurchefant had never paid her phasing in and out much mind. After a moment she narrowed her eyes and bared her teeth with a low growl.

The entire room was almost awkwardly silent – the giant room at the Knights Most Heavenly had always been a mingling point for military forces and the like, and Haurchefant had been surprised to run into the Azure Dragoon for once. He had, of course, then decided to attempt speaking to her, but was met with only cold contempt. It was kind of hypocritical after telling Nemi to leave her alone (which he knew), but there was something he needed to hear from the woman herself. Alas, she had not said anything up to now.

The chair was easy to control now that he knew how to use it, and it was easy to cut off the Miqo’te’s march outside – which led to the awkwardly quiet situation on hand. Several dragoons were huddled together and watched in something that almost looked like horror as the noble apparently got on the Azure Dragoon’s nerves. Even the temple knights present seemed to be surprised by this.

Only two other people weren’t worried too much about Haurchefant de Fortemps’ well-being: Lucia and another dragoon, who happened to be Lahen’s adoptive father.

“Out of my way. I’m busy.”

“Answer my question, Lahen, please.”

“I’m an adventurer, and the daughter of two. I don’t have to answer anyone but myself.”

With that she simply leapt over Haurchefant, who could only watch in frustration as she did. Once a dragoon jumped and landed to only break into a sprint, they were as good as gone. Slippery bastards, he cursed, and within a moment the silence in the room broke and everyone hurried to look as uninterested in the situation as possible.

Lucia merely raised an eyebrow and shrugged when Haurchefant finally looked at her.

It was the Au Ra who then decided to help the confused and rather frustrated noble.

“Come, Ser, let us get out of here. I do apologise for my daughter’s… rough and rushed behaviour. She hasn’t quite been herself lately.”

“So I noticed. I just wanted to know—“

“Yes, you wanted to know something that always quite troubled her. Of course you could not have known, and I think very few people know that, but her opinion on cross-racial anything tends to be rather… twisted, sometimes. I suppose this is very much mine and my wife’s faults, seeing as we are not quite the norm we wish we would be. Even her parents broke very substantial rules of Seekers of the Sun – Lahen is pretty much a wildcard, therefore her opinion on everything is ‘live and let live, unless it directly threatens my life’.”

The Elezen huffed as they went up to the Pillars. “I just wanted to know what she thought. It’s not like I suggested hanging her or anything, yet she—“

“Is an insufferable brat with no manners at all, period. We all know that. She is still young, and still learning, and much like you has been thrust into a rather awkward situation. No, I do not mean to compare both your situations, Ser. You definitely had it harder than this brat I spoiled. Yet you grew to be a mature and well-versed man and fighter. She grew up sheltered, happy, with no troubles at all. Shian and I did not stop her when she decided she wanted to leave and become an adventurer. She got all she wanted – fame, friends, skill. And now all except for skill has deteriorated, left. People have died under her watch, hell, she simply stood by and watched as people left, died, or otherwise were… removed. It was a long chain she suffered through, but… she lacked and still lacks the maturity levels you have.”

Haurchefant looked at the dragoon. Even though most of his face was covered in scales and by his hair, it was simple to see that the man had his face screwed up with an expression of hopelessness.

“She could have simply gone to Ishgard, or come back home. Yet she stayed with what remained of her allies. Anyone else would have gone on ahead to help you get the rest of the Scions within Ishgard’s walls – she didn’t. She was too scared something would happen to her friends if she left, and she took a prolonged period of suffering from a hopeless situation over that. You were quite a key figure in helping her and the other Scions. Who knows what they would have done had you not taken them under House Fortemps’ wing. I must thank you for that, not just for the sake of my daughter but for all of Ishgard and Eorzea, even. Now, once they were inside, things went wrong. I know not the exact details, but I do think that this string of things gone wrong reached its peak at the time you all went to the Vault.”

He bit his lips; his memory on the exact events of this particular mission were fuzzy at best. He had helped bust our Aymeric from the dungeon, then joined the Warriors of Light on the roof to stop the Archbishop, and… Nemi generally refused to talk about this; Lorven simply shook his head and walked away; Lahen herself was unreachable; and even Lucia and Aymeric seemed hesitant to speak about this. And Estinien, well, he was out of the question until someone found a way to return him to normal (which the Scions were working on, as they had told Haurchefant before they teleported off to wherever).

“After that it just went worse and worse, and finally came to an abrupt halt when Ser Estinien turned into Nidhogg. Nothing else has happened since, but everything else has been stagnating. Azure Dragoons hear Nidhogg whispering in the back of their head whenever he wakes or is recovering. It is quite obvious that this voice is not there to guide Lahen, and with the loss of the Eye even the Warrior of Light will be useless against a great wyrm like that. She is as frustrated as you are, since you are both stuck. That is why she refuses to talk to you… well, that and the fact that Lahen might misplace some blame on you and her friend Nemi.”

“…”

“I see you already know what I mean. Worry not, there is no love involved in Lahen’s case. She’s just horribly attached to certain people. With you surviving the assault you took in Nemi’s place, you pretty much forged a bond between you and her. Lahen knows that. That means you and Nemi are both out of the picture for people she can trust her problems with. Lady Heustienne and Ser Estinien are both unavailable. The Scions would immediately discuss this among each other, making them unfavourable conversation partners. And would you discuss things with your own parents? She has friends and allies but believes she’s all on her own. And you coming in and asking about what Nemi likes and Lahen’s opinion on all of that… it’s like a spear to the gut after already having been hanged.”

“…”

“You probably knew that, but still hoped to make her come out of her shell a little. There’s no way she will, unless she does so on her own. Our best bet is to wait until she opens up to Lorven. An outcome Shian would love to avoid, since he’s a Seeker and all.”

“Beg pardon?”

Al’nebar laughed, almost a little too loud. “Oh, you’ll understand sooner or later. But Seekers are particularly weird about their races’ traditions and such. Lhishian Al’nebar has not always been that. There was a Q’lhishian Rofh before. And Lahen Al’nebar is not her real given name – it’s Q’lahen Nhex, if only to follow traditions. And R’lorven Tia, who you know as Lorven S’ylver, is a story for another day. Let us just say that these Miqo’te are rather strange compared to what you know and are used to.”

That was quite an understatement, but Haurchefant did not dare to ask in that exact moment.

* * *

 

Piles of books, dim light, and several pairs of eyes focused on yet even more books. The room looked more like a miniature library at this point, but every single person in said room was too focused on their books to notice.

“No, nothing,” was the eventual conclusion all of them came to. Aetherial reversal did not seem to be the way to go, and the Warriors of Light almost sadly went to return the books to the Great Gubal Library in the Dravanian Hinterlands.

* * *

 

“… I accept.”

“I have to admit, this is an almost pleasant surprise.”

“Look, you… really know where he is?”

“Since we are allies now, I can tell you. The remains of Ferndale.”

“The… what?”

“The village the Azure Dragoon before failed to protect. A small settlement in the Western Highlands, a close-knit community, completely razed to the ground in a matter of minutes. There were no survivors other than a boy wailing loudly for first his parents and his brother, then the death of the dragons who did this. Estinien Wyrmblood – a strange last name for an Elezen, but not so much when you know that he simply had none thanks to his low position in the hierarchy. A shepherd’s son. The Azure Dragoon. And the dragon now using the body of said Azure Dragoon needs only to fully break the remaining will of the Elezen to completely gain control of a new body with both his Eyes in it. Frightening, isn’t it?”

“No, not really. I’ve had worse.”

The woman pressed her lips together so they became a thin line. “Archbishops that simply destroyed Ascians with a swing of their sword and then absorbed said aether. An almost unkillable entity, cleaved in half and gone with less effort than you had spent a mere moments ago to get rid of his companion.”

The Warrior of Light simply smiled. “Exactly like that. Well then, partner, are we off? I need only a way to save Estinien from Nidhogg now. You can help me with that, can’t you?”

“Well, I never said I would not help, have I? Very well.”

“Q’lahen Nhex. A pleasure to meet you…?”

“Names… Oh well. Call me Thia for all I care.”

* * *

 

The chill returned with a hard grip on the entire region. Every major settlement – namely Whitebrim Front and Camp Dragonhead in the Central Highlands, Falcon’s Nest in the Western Highlands, and Ishgard itself – started fortifying against the cold. Apparently even Camp Tailfeather reported an unusual cold for this time of the year.

“…” The current leader of Ishgard sighed into his folded hands as he sat in his usual place.

“Ser Aymeric?”

“… Mhm. We might be in for a longer winter than usual, Lucia. Everything has been… unusual. And it would be not unlike Nidhogg to… well, you know.”

“Can dragons influence the weather, though?”

“That we do not know. We might have the one who can answer it right beside us, but… Maybe I’m just reading too much into this situation. All I feel is that a strange winter is right before us, and there is little we will be able to do.”

They looked out of the window, and just for a second a dragon was visible before it dove into the clouds. Both the Ishgardian and the Garlean shuddered as they stared after it – it hadn’t been a dragon that followed Nidhogg, at the very least.

Hraesvelgr, on the other hand, simply glared at the Dravanian Forelands underneath him. Aymeric had not been particularly wrong to claim that a strange winter was coming up. Alas the dragon much preferred staying out of the idiotic conflicts of mortals. He owed Shiva that much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Augh. This chapter was a drag, and it didn't help I managed to wreck the V-Key off my keyboard last week. Any missing vs are to be blamed on that, I did my best trying to catch all of those but...
> 
> Okay, now we got the plot in motion finally, which gives me a bit more of freedom to work with. Expect less time-jumps from here on out, and more focus on character development than before, aka something I enjoy greatly :v
> 
> I might, uh, slow down though. Chapters might in turn get longer, but I'm no longer a shut-in dungeon-dwelling loser, and hopefully this'll help me find a job fast and everything.


	7. Büchereigestöber

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Planlessly going through books leads to half-baked plans. One third vaguely knows how to tackle the issue but lacks a location; one third knows the location but lacks a solution; and the last third forges a different plan altogether.

“This cold is al-almost barbaric. How d-do you m-manage…” The Miqo’te was shivering despite several layers of clothes, a few blankets and his seat closest to the fire.

“Truth be told, we barely did. Barely do, even.” They had been sitting amongst piles of books once more, and the unexpected tag-along in the form of Aymeric shrugged. “Many people died the year after the Calamity, just to cold itself. Not counting any dragon casualties we probably lost a few hundred people, and that is not taking into consideration how many heretics and people in the Brume perished. Though… I think last time the chill was this extreme was the winter right after the Calamity.”

Haurchefant looked up from his book. “Indeed it was. Seven years ago. One would have thought the biting cold would return sooner, but alas. This might however kill the last resilient pre-Calamity plants.”

“Ah, true. At least we will not lose entire settlements to snow now, like essentially everything in the Western Highlands back then… safe for a few ruins that were protected by being close to the cliffs and mountains.”

Nemi flipped a page over. They had asked Aymeric for entry to the Vault – for the books hoarded there amongst all other treasures. The Lord Commander did look rather unsettled to be here, but nonetheless dug through heaps of books with them. Every person in this room looked on edge, truth be told, but none as nervous as Aymeric. Why he had come along in the first place was a mystery; maybe he was hoping to overcome his terror of this place somewhat with this.

“So… what were you all looking for again?”

Y’shtola shrugged. “There has to be something on how we can help Estinien, once we find him.”

“Mhm.”

That was uncharacteristically flat. Nemi looked up from her book and at Aymeric. It looked as if the man had gone several shades paler from an already sickly white. He looked slightly yellow now, and it wasn’t just the fact that he was in the Vault right now. Was Estinien a nerve to be struck? Lorven raised an eyebrow when he looked at the Lord Commander, and Y'shtola paled considerably. Tataru started fidgeting.

“I think I might, er, look around. Yda, Tataru, pray come with me.”

It seemed like the Scions hurried out, leaving only Nemi, the pathetically freezing Lorven, Haurchefant, and Aymeric behind. The latter sighed and leaned against a wall, tossing the book he had in his hands aside carelessly.

“Just more lies fabricated and spread by the Vault. It seems there is naught here within these walls other than deception and blood on the floor.”

Now it was Haurchefant’s turn to look up from his book. He blinked a few times as he looked around the room, until finally he exhaled loudly. Aymeric flinched in his place and started pacing around the room. None of the other people were focusing on their books even more (though Lorven had to offer loudly chattering teeth to break the silence). Eventually Aymeric tapped his boots against a bookshelf.

“Is that truly what you look for? A way to—“

“Yes. Ishgard and its people need him, and even though Lahen goes trying to fulfil every single of his duties with grim vigour… She is inexperienced, and has the mentality of an adventurer to boot.” Haurchefant gestured vaguely into Aymeric’s direction. “We need the Azure Dragoon back. The elder.”

“If you need the elder one, ask for Alberic at the Congregation.”

“No. Ishgard does not need a retired man who succumbed to Nidhogg once. It needs the one who succumbed twice alive and well. Ishgard does – and you do.”

“…”

Lorven raised a hand. “Beg pardon?”

Aymeric sighed and ran a hand through his hair before grabbing another book. “We used to be in the same unit. Long story short, I was there when he killed his first dragon, and he repaid the debt he owes me for saving his life by… saving mine when you all stormed the Vault for my sake. Except now I owe him, for he helped save Ishgard from my father and— This… this book is… what is this doing in the _Vault_ …“

Nemi bit her lips. She had never even considered that Aymeric and Estinien were anything more than acquaintances. Of course the Lord Commander would know the Azure Dragoon and vice versa, but the Azure Dragoon did not have to act in accordance to the Lord Commander, and the Lord Commander did not have to take orders from an Azure Dragoon. If anything she would have considered them rivals – but them being friends came completely out of the blue for the scholar. She leaned over to Haurchefant, who was looking at her with a raised eyebrow.

“I… I had no idea they were,” she whispered, “… friends.”

“It’s like Estinien’s face – they love keeping secrets. In fact only a select few people have ever seen the Azure Dragoon without his helm. And I do not recall him having this burn on one half of his face. I suppose that came from his brawl with Lahen?”

“Most likely…”

“Either way, one of the many little secrets people like to keep is that those two are friends. Battle-hardened ones, too. If I recall that correctly, they were quite good when fighting together; Estinien had always been good with polearms of any sort, and Aymeric, believe it or not, used to be an archer. Dragoons and any sort of long-range fighters are always excellent teams. Before Aymeric rose to his position and Estinien was chosen by the Eye they were… well. Friends, the person they’d trust most on the battlefield.”

The Warrior of Light looked at the black-haired Elezen. He had completely ruined his hair by constantly (and very nervously) running his hands through it. He was shallowly breathing through his mouth and drew his tongue over his lips every minute or so. Aymeric was getting more and more uncomfortable the more time in absolute silence passed, but Nemi was also rather afraid of causing his heart to fail by making any sort of noise. It had just been a few days – but she didn’t even dare to think about what had happened in this place. She’d never understand the situation and how it felt for Aymeric, anyway.

Ishgard was a strange place, and ridden by way too many issues for a single city state to handle. Who thought that the few would best decide the fate of the many? Who had decided all these ridiculous noble houses would be noble houses now? Not to mention the whole bastards-issue. It was something that happened outside of Ishgard, too, but generally nobody outside the affected parties paid it much mind. It offered good gossip for a while, but the topic was generally dropped before long.

Here however it seemed to be a crime, a crime committed by the children. Which itself was already ridiculous, how could a child be responsible for being born the way it was? Haurchefant and Aymeric had committed no crime other than being born. But that was enough for everyone around them to condemn them – yet Haurchefant had the headstart of having been accepted by his father. Aymeric on the other hand…

She shook her head slightly. The Au Ra had to admit she didn’t want to think about this too long. A child, condemned for his birth, and then eventually tortured at the hands of his father’s men when he was a grown man.

Haurchefant had shifted slightly to grab another book. Lorven seemed to have stopped freezing – he looked positively cosy and flushed from warmth in his pile there. Aymeric tapped his foot several times before clicking his tongue and picking up yet another book.

“I had no idea there were books on dragoons.”

“…!?” Haurchefant’s head shot up and he looked straight at the commander. “Dragoons?”

“… Oh. Oh!”

The four shuffled around the room a little to sit together as closely as possible – everyone wanted to take a peek at that book. After a few minutes resignation settled.

“It’s just the basics and all theory…” Lorven sounded honestly disappointed there.

“Hrrm. Doesn’t look like there’s anything of note in there…” Nemi sighed.

“Too bad… that’s just too bad.” Even Haurchefant looked hopeless.

“…” Aymeric however focused on the book.

He turned a few pages hastily, his blue eyes moving faster than Nemi had ever seen. Another thing she had not considered was that Aymeric could be a fast reader. In fact there were so many things she had never thought or asked about, and she realised with a sudden sting how unfamiliar and strange the Ishgardians and Coerthans she knew were. Every single one of them seemed to be strangely fixated on dragons, yes, but that was about it. Every single one had their quirks that she could not know about – Lahen, Haurchefant, Estinien and Aymeric alike were almost just to a fault at times, and Ysayle had her own shades of a strong sense of justice when she was alive. Yet all of them had some kind of ulterior move at times; Lahen her desire for freedom for everyone, Aymeric and his dreams of a just Ishgard, Estinien had his hopes for peace buried underneath scorn and hatred, Ysayle had been driven by the same hope as Estinien had been. The only one who lacked anything like that had been Haurchefant. Nemi threw a quick glance at the Elezen next to her, and he returned her look with a small smile.

Aymeric cleared his throat. “… Hm. Here is something about how to return dragoons from compulsive obsession with something when they are about to give in to the inner dragon, but… there is naught about how to return dragoons to their human— Actually. Actually, there is a passage.”

The Warriors of Light and the other Elezen looked back into the book hopefully. Their hope crumbled almost immediately, however, and they looked at Aymeric with narrowed eyes.

“… I see you came to the same conclusion as I did. The best way to return a dragoon to their senses is by having people talk sense into them. What we would also need is a dragoon who overcame their inner dragon, just to have something to coax the overtaken one into… daring to hope to retake their body again. I… I am not currently aware of any dragoons that ever overcame their inner dragons. I shall conduct a search of my own, but… It does not look well for us. It is a lead, yes, but…” Aymeric exhaled slowly. “I apologise, but I… need to get out of here.”

* * *

 

The assorted men and women eyed the commander and the Warrior of Light warily. It were only two dozen people who had remained here out of curiosity, two dozen out of over a hundred. Lorven was quite certain that Ser Alberic had only remained here to see if they had gotten any leads. Lahen’s icy stare seemed to impale Aymeric, and even her father, way in the back, seemed a little uneasy to be around his daughter right now.

Thankfully the Azure Dragoon soon snorted into the silence, threw her arms up in the air and marched off, declaring that there was more to be done than be stared at.

“… Urgh… I had hopes she would have stopped this behaviour by now.” Alberic watched as the seven other dragoons followed their supposed leader slowly. “Alas, I was mistaken. … So, Lord Commander, what brings you here, then?”

“Exactly as I said. We need a dragoon who overcame their inner dragon before we can properly conduct a search for Estinien Wyrmblood.”

Lorven shifted his weight from one foot to another. He was fully aware of the way Sengun Al’nebar watched the entire scene, with his unsettling eyes shining in the dim light. Nemi lacked limbal rings, so Lorven never quite had seen any until now. That glow was eerie.

“… I am quite afraid to tell you that I am not—“

“Yes, Alberic. We knew you would tell us that as soon as you knew what it was about. We had just hoped there would have been more dragoons that remained here.”

Sengun shrugged. “Quite afraid I am not a good choice for this either. I lost that fight way back when I was a teenager, and only managed to not completely lose my mind because someone else knocked me out. And Lahen… well, she’s currently fighting her inner demons and dragons and what not.”

Alberic crossed his arms as the Au Ra left the room as well. Lorven flicked his ears backwards as the door closed. Whatever hope they had had, it crumbled to dust right before their eyes. Aymeric looked crestfallen, his eyes downcast.

“… Though… Heustienne, perhaps has beaten her inner dragon by now… The only problem is, no one knows where she currently is.”

Aymeric looked up – the disappearance of Heustienne was something not many people knew about. To others she was simply dead as she had wished, a lie that Lahen had spread and even Estinien had eventually started spreading after a few fruitless searches for the vanished woman. Alberic gave a quick rundown of the situation for the rightfully confused commander, and at the end of it Aymeric simply nodded.

“Then it is her we should look for.”

“Not when winter is in full swing! More men would die in the Western Highlands, and many have already perished out there. There is unrest among the heretics, fighting even.”

“… That’s what we have the W—“

“The Warriors of Light are unaffected by primals, boy.” Alberic spoke slowly. “The cold would and will get them – they are a Coerthan who is currently going through a fight with her inner dragon; a tribal Miqo’te from Thanalan who is not made for the cold; and an Au Ra who cannot and should not do things on her own. I cannot think of any person who would want Estinien back as fast and unharmed as you, Lord Commander, but now is not the time to act like a bunch of gaelikitten flying for the first time. We need a plan, one that does not involve sending people to their certain death in the Western Highlands right when winter is here.”

Lorven flicked his ears back forwards and stopped swishing his tail around.

“Aymeric, we will get Estinien back home. It would not be right for the boy to turn into Nidhogg and fall against the Warriors of Light and your forces.” Aymeric shook his head and looked back at the floor as Alberic continued. “But this is not the same as it was back then. You cannot rush in blindly and try getting what you desire, and suddenly someone shoots an arrow and saves your life. This is not some part of Nidhoggs brood, or one of his champions. It is Nidhogg himself, and he uses the body of one Azure Dragoon. We should consider ourselves blessed it is not two Nidhoggs we stand against. Truly, Estinien is blessed to have friends like you and the Warriors of Light worry about him, but now really is not the time to act like two survivors of the same squadron that have nothing else to lose.”

With that Alberic left too, and behind stayed Lorven and Aymeric.

The Warrior of Light blinked several times before cracking his neck. Aymeric only continued staring at the floor, his hands curled into fists. ‘What a grand failure,’ Lorven thought.

* * *

 

“We ought to control it. Like Minfilia and Ysayle did.”

“Nemi… We can’t. None of us three can control the Echo.”

“But that’s where the problem lays, Lorven! If we could but control it… who knows what we could be capable of!”

“… Like that Sahagin priest? Is an Ascian what you strive to become?”

“No, absolutely not. Do you think I’m a fool? No. What I wish we could do is just control it, to make Eorzea better with precise predictions based on what we glimpsed of the past. No more wild goose-chases, no more errands just to learn what we could with an Echo vision.”

“Hm. You have a point, and everything, but… truly, I think we are better off not being able to control it.”

* * *

 

Snow in the Dravanian Forelands. It was already rare enough to have a bit of frost there, which was strange considering that this land was close to the Western Highlands. But now it was snowing, and the entire forest seemed to hold its breath. The aether was wildly fluctuating as Lahen soon felt.

She shivered a little and looked around.

“So,” Thia began, “we came here to converse with… a dragon?”

“Yes.”

“But dragons know nothing about spoken ones. They only know about dragons.”

“Yeah, that’s the point. Estinien currently is a dragon, and I only know how to kill them. I figure we better start with baby steps regarding the whole ‘turning him back’ issue. … Also, there’s something all of us neglected to tell a certain dragon. Vidofnir is not going to be pleased, but… someone has to tell her, if the return of Nidhogg hasn’t already told her what happened.”

With that the Azure Dragoon continued her march through the snowy plains. She had left her trusty chocobo at Tailfeather, much to the creature’s distress. But he would be better off there than out here in the open – dragons still preyed on wild chocobos, and if they were careless or young they might snatch the Warrior of Light as she rode along the paths hidden underneath the snowy blanket.

Anyx Trine came into view after another hour of marching, and all of a sudden Lahen’s heart felt heavier. Asking about ways to stop Nidhogg after already killing him once was bad enough, but bringing news of Ysayle’s death was the worst she could possibly bring. Vidofnir and the woman had a bond neither of them particularly explained (Lahen assumed it was similar to what bound her and the other two Warriors of Light together). She stopped dead and looked up. Several younger hatchlings where sailing around the gusts as it started snowing softly, and all of them made noises akin to those of joy.

Children who enjoyed snow. They were nothing else, and Lahen shook her head furiously.

“Yes, I too wonder how Ishgard and Dravania managed to keep on warring for so long. It was the high houses against Nidhogg, but every other brood got more or less involved in this war, did it not? Your children died – and so did theirs.”

“… And I willingly joined in the slaughter. What kind of saviour am I supposed to be…?”

“Saviour? Nay. You are – much like most people nowadays – misled and blinded by light. The balance has long been lost, and whenever the world hangs in favour of the light horrible things happen. All justified as ‘justice’ and the like. Ancient Allag claimed their conquest was rightfully done, up until the point they were wiped out. True, ‘twas darkness that led to the summoning of a most ancient horror that brought about the Calamity you lived through, but… Blindly following light leads to senseless slaughter and sacrifice. The ones that suffer under that? Children, like the ones above us.”

Lahen blinked rapidly. She was quite sure she had lost her ability to cry by the time they had returned to Ishgard, so all she felt right now was a familiar and painful sting. She sighed and ran a hand through her hair – she had forgotten to tie it up today.

“… Azure Dragoon. I guess we really were nothing but butcherers chosen by Nidhogg. … Thia? The sun’s setting. I’m pretty sure we can rest the night here at Anyx Trine before speaking to Vidofnir come tomorrow.”

“… Yes.”

* * *

 

“Everyone’s busy doing something. Lorven’s gone out to Central with Aymeric; Yda, Y’shtola and Tataru are busy in Ul’dah; and what are we three? The pity party?”

“… Sometimes I do wonder how either of you managed to become one of the Warriors of Light, Nemi.”

“Gee, thanks, Alphinaud.”

The Au Ra leaned back in her seat. More piles of books were to be gone through today, and the only people in the Vault were Haurchefant, Alphinaud, and her. While Nemi admitted she would have loved following the Scions to Ul’dah or go along with whatever Lorven and Aymeric did, she had insisted she wanted to go through the books once more. There must have been something they had overlooked.

The day passed slowly and Nemi was caught up in a book completely unrelated to anything else. Haurchefant was sound asleep, his head leaning on her shoulder. Alphinaud was grumbling to himself and putting books back to where they had pulled them from.

“Maybe we are looking in the wrong places. Perhaps it would be wise if we were to ask Ishgardians. Not just nobles, but also the middle class and the people of the Brume. Hilda would most likely help us with that if we asked her to…”

“… Y’know, Alphinaud? You’re probably right. Let’s do that tomorrow.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> November honestly can't come soon enough :v  
> Also, posting when your internet suddenly cuts out every 5 seconds is challenging. 0/10.
> 
> edit: i jynxed it. i tried posting and got a bad gateway error. this is almost as bad as this laptop crashing while i was saving something really important and the really important thing ended up corrupted without a way to save it RIGHT ON THE DAY I NEEDED IT AAAAA


	8. Wie Schuppen von den Augen gefallen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (this is the first one I lack a translation for; if I were to translate it literally it'd be "scales falling from the eyes". basically it means to realise something that should have been obvious from the very beginning, now that you realised it)
> 
> The hunt comes to an end. They find what they were looking for - but not exactly in the way they thought they would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Lalafell appearing in this chapter is my friend's. Get your ass over onto my server if you read this Matt, if not meet me at gay baby jail in the next 20 days for an ass kicking
> 
> making of:
> 
> [18:21:10] Deadly Poisonous Zanzibar Hamsters: i thought about naming this chapter Atemlos but i heard helene fisher very muted from downstairs in the same moment and i honestly thought she was gonna kick in my door and murder me for a second  
> 

“We were never the pity party – we were simply the people left behind because they did not exactly fit with any other group. Ser Aymeric needs someone who can work strategically without letting their emotions take over them – you and me both are not qualified for that, given recent events.”

Nemi raised an eyebrow at the younger Elezen. A week had passed and she could swear she saw him grow even now. Alphinaud had long since grown past all of the Warriors of Light, his ridiculous growth spurt not really starting until the last legs of their stay in Ishgard. But at the same time the young man had barely managed to remain as cold and calculating as he was before. Ysayle’s death had shaken something within him back to life after it had been beaten to death by the betrayal of the Crystal Braves: his passion. It seemed he finally understood what he fought for, and Ysayle’s heroic death had only cemented that belief.

“You are furthermore bound to Ishgard by… other duties. Ser Haurchefant, namely. But you are also an excellent healer, and those are always needed in Ishgard, with the heretics on Nidhogg’s side starting new attacks and such.”

“Heretics, huh… Are they truly ‘heretics’ anymore?”

Haurchefant looked over his shoulder before Alphinaud could answer. “Well, people still call them such, but… I did hear Aymeric suggest calling them merely ‘traitors’ as opposed to heretics. If there truly is to be peace between dragonkind and Ishgard, he said, then the least we ought to do is call those who would smite that peace before it even exists traitors. At least that is what I heard him say to Midgardsormr.”

The Sharlayan and the scholar fell silent, and the Ishgardian shrugged.

It had stopped snowing, though the skies were already turning bright white again – which meant there was more snow yet to fall. It was noon, but Nemi felt like she had not seen the sun in years by now. La Noscea, the place she had grown up, was always sunny and warm, but Ishgard offered nothing but a mind-numbing cold.

It had not always been like that, people here said. In the Brume, the place they were going to, people said that almost a decade ago summer was pleasantly warm, even up here in the mountains. People at Foundation and in the Pillars alike spoke fondly of times where flowers would bloom all over Coerthas and within Ishgard, flowers that died out here and were mostly found in the most remote reaches of Dravanian soil now. Haurchefant and his family always spoke of seasons as if there existed more than mildly cold, very cold and bitterly cold winter nowadays. Even Lahen’s mother sometimes looked into the distance as if she expected to see more than trees creaking under the weight of the snow.

Estinien, on the other hand, had never particularly seemed bothered by any of this. Only once had he muttered something to Ser Aymeric as the Warriors of Light complained about the snow – “I would have loved seeing them in pre-Calamity Falcon’s Nest.” Apparently the region was either wrecked by snowstorms in winter, or drowned in seemingly never-ending downpours in summer. It most likely came from being stuck between two large mountain-ranges, but all the Western Highlands now offered were blizzards and hostile environments. Even dragons were not spared from the Calamity.

A Calamity a hideously twisted and angered image of one of the First Brood had caused.

The scholar tensed up and shuddered while thinking about what they had learned in Azys Lla. It was definitely the time to say something to avoid thinking about this too much.

“… So, is it really wise to go to the Brume?” Maybe it wasn’t the right thing to say, but it had been said. She cursed under her breath, which earned her funny looks by her Elezen companions.

“If nothing else, it is a perfect place to hide former heretics, if you have enough of a working brain. Nidhogg with knowledge about the city’s internal structure given to him by Estinien would try something. Probably.” Even Haurchefant sounded uncertain.

* * *

 

_“Well, we can’t just have him fight all battles, can we?”_

_Laughter splits the air. It’s a relaxed situation, surprisingly enough, despite the bodies of dragons scattered on the ground. Both women smile before grabbing their lances again._

_“But you and he are both Azure Dragoons. It’ll be the both of you that defeat Nidhogg, and that probably before I can even take care of Graoully.”_

_“Don’t be ridiculous, Heustienne.” Lahen stretches, her eyes half closed – maybe narrowed, it’s hard to tell. “You’re doing fine. Next thing we know you’ll have Graoully down and Estinien can’t even find Nidhogg while I’m bound to duties as Warrior of Light. Two doesn’t always mean it’ll end better.”_

_Heustienne draws her fingers through her blonde hair. It’s an almost unusually slow movement for a dragoon, a trained warrior whose purpose is to be fleet-footed and heavy-hitting at the same time. She looks around, her gaze going from the Azure Dragoon at her side to the skies above. It is an overcast day, but there are no signs of any more dragon attacks._

_“You’re probably right.”_

_“Well, we are dragoons. We have to defeat dragons, what else are we good for? But once the dragon we are up against is slain, what are we to do?” The Azure Dragoon raises an eyebrow after finishing her question._

_Heustienne remains quiet for a moment before letting out a soft chuckle. “… Good question. I suppose not everyone has an upcoming Lord Commander to drag you out of the dragon’s lair and back to Ishgard.”_

_Once more Lahen laughs while setting her lance back into the usual position at her back. A lazy, trained movement, and it is clear she can draw that lance faster than the blink of an eye. Heustienne follows her fellow dragoon’s example, but the Elezen woman looks confused while the Miqo’te laughs._

_“Well! What kind of teacher would I be if I did not drag my student out of the dragon’s lair once she’s done?”_

Lorven’s sight was blurry when he blinked open his eyes. The fact the surrounding area was the Central Highlands did not help – he was used to bright light, but any sort of light reflected by snow made his eyes burn and water. The only thing he vaguely made out was a dark figure bent over him, and after a few seconds it turned out to be the worried face of Aymeric.

“Ah.”

“I am quite afraid I will never quite get used to either of you suddenly passing out figuratively or literally.  I cannot even begin to imagine what having a vision brought by the Echo would be like.”

“… It’s kind of like leaving your body. But never mind that. Where are we?”

“The Observatorium. It started snowing shortly after you passed out, and there was no way I could make it back to Ishgard or Dragonhead while carrying you around. Thankfully you woke up ere I would have had to drop you to contact people.”

Lorven sat up and looked around. He had never particularly liked this place, nor had he spent a lot of time here. Lahen, however, had, and it was almost surreal to have had a vision triggered where she was an active member. He had assumed that they could not see anything with the other two in it, but apparently he had been mistaken – controlling the Echo, as Nemi had suggested the other day, seemed almost plausible now. If they could control it they could change the world simply by knowing the past. Murder cases would get solved, ancient feuds could be solved with diplomacy…

On second thought, that was possibly the most dangerous thing he ever considered, and it would make him not a bit better than Ascians. Ascians knew all of that, had the Echo themselves from what they learned so far, yet none of them were good.

Aymeric offered the Miqo’te a hand, and Lorven gladly took it while shaking off that thought. There were times to think about Ascians, but right now was not one – after Lahabrea had been so unceremoniously slain by Thordan they most likely needed time to regroup.

“Was the vision at least of use?”

“No, not really. It was just Lahen and Heustienne talking. Useful for me, since I’ve never quite seen the woman, but otherwise useless. The only thing of note that happened was Lahen saying she would be there to get her back if anything happened. But we both know Lahen gave up on trying finding Heustienne, since the Western Highlands are impossible to search when you are just one lone dragoon.”

The Lord Commander narrowed his eyes in thought.

“Heustienne is supposed to be in the Western Highlands?”

“Err, yes?”

“… Hm. Actually, Lorven. I think I just had a vague idea where we are supposed to look. Come, can you attune to the aetherite at Falcon’s Nest?”

The Miqo’te shrugged and nodded. He was not thrilled to teleport, but Aymeric seemed to have understood something about this situation, so maybe it was best to follow along. Once more the surroundings blacked out, melted away, only to turn into a bright white canvas again. It hurt his eyes still, and Lorven hissed a little while Aymeric paced around to shake off the teleporting dizziness.

“Estinien is from the Western Highlands, you know.”

“Eh?”

“The village he grew up in used to be around here. Current post-Calamity weather considered it is most likely not covered – the ruins should still be standing.”

Lorven shook his head. “Wait, wait, wait. Are you going to imply what I think you are going to imply?”

Aymeric grinned, a strange sight to behold for the Warrior of Light. “Either we find Nidhogg there since both the original and the host are tied together in that place, or we will find Heustienne there. The bad thing is it is at least three days away from here on the back of any flying creature. I do in fact have a chocobo stabled here, and you…”

A small but familiar noise made Lorven cringe. He was still used to this sound being accompanied by horrible things happening or being sad, and both men turned to look at the dragon suddenly sitting on the walls of Falcon’s Nest. At least no one was looking into their direction due to it being time for afternoon meals and such. Seeing that the Warrior of Light relaxed; it was the much smaller form that had negative memories such as Moenbryda’s memorial or staring at the Steps of Faith after the events in Ul’dah attached to it. The larger form was related to learning of Allagan horrors and fleeing Azys Lla with at least some evil undone.

“I would volunteer for thine efforts, Warrior of Light and leader of Ishgard. I doth not feel where Nidhogg resides, but worst come to worst and thou doth find him in those ruins, I would help thou get out in one piece.”

Lorven nodded once, while Aymeric huffed.

“Doth thou not accept mine offer?”

“No, not that. It would make things much easier and raise our chance at survival. It is merely the fact that you only appear now that puzzles me. Were you with anyone else?”

“… No, I was not. The Warriors of Light are not children that need to be watched. All I can tell you one is in Ishgard, while the other remains in the Forelands.”

* * *

 

“I assume you do know what dangers lay within this?”

“Do you think I am a fool? I know all too well that I am going to both possible nests of dangers I could peek into. But getting into Ishgard that way will be much less dangerous than any othe. And once I am in there I will be able to do what I desire.”

“…”

“Oh, calm down. No need to stare at me like that. If all goes wrong they would at the very least not dare attacking me. This plan has almost no flaws, believe me, Elidibus.”

“… If you say so.”

* * *

 

They had been right – but also wrong.

Formerly called heretics, the groups had mostly scattered after learning of Ysayle Iceheart’s demise. At the same time Nidhogg rose again, his voice strangely muted and all of a sudden capable of speaking Eorzean tongue. Dragons normally never spoke in this language if they were ancient as Nidhogg. Some took this as a sign that something was wrong, very wrong indeed. Through Ysayle’s sacrifice and Ishgard’s sudden silence and cease of hunts for heretics and dragons they learned that the winds of change was about to start blowing. They took it as a sign that Lady Iceheart’s words had finally reached Ishgard, and that peace was no longer a dream.

Others however took up arms again. With Iceheart gone – surely slain by Ishgardians! – there was no reason to even remotely try to reason with these madmen within their city walls. Nidhogg’s feeble call reached them, and they gathered again.

The Western Highlands were still the main base of operations, and they had felt such.

But there were indeed people in the Brume – former heretics and current heretics alike.

Alphinaud closed his eyes as he heard this tale from the mouths of Elezen his age. It seemed almost absurd that these people were once called Ishgard’s worst enemies next to the horde; they were barely more than starved children. Starved children which Ishgard already had enough of. And now they were gathered here, in the Brume, in secret. Former heretics, the sort that did not wish to side with the new Nidhogg.

They fit right in with the general Brume. It made sense that they would be accepted like that.

Their tale of others hiding here while planning almost ridiculous deeds seemed out of place.

“We heard them discuss assassinating the lord commander and then storming the Vault…”

“Planning a riot… so that flames consume the city after all.”

If Ishgard burned in the middle of winter… Alphinaud shuddered. The former heretics and his allies alike looked at each other quietly as snow fell.

How much of the Calamity still lingered in the air here? Was it enough leftover aether to cause Ishgard to be wrapped in this infernal cold from now on and forever? Would dragons one day be the only ones to remember a Coerthas without snow? If peace could be achieved, would these dragons tell Ishgard’s future children of times when plants covered the highlands and dragonkind and spoken ones were mortal enemies? Would the aether still linger there?

‘Grandfather,’ he thought and bit his lower lip, ‘if you are still stuck up there, out here… is this truly what Ishgard and Eorzea deserved? I know you made your peace with this unforgiving place, but sometimes I do wonder… why?’

* * *

 

The world seemingly came to a complete standstill.

Lahen had been raised with the fear of her uncle never returning home due to dragons. She had been raised with tales about how cruel and unforgiving these creatures were. Stories of how they wiped out villages, slaughtered even adventurers that were uninvolved with the Dragonsong War, stories of how they were essentially butcherers of her fellow and undeserving Coerthans and Ishgardians – and the most likely suspect for the death of her birth parents. Like so many children in Coerthas she grew up in fear, maybe even hatred. There could always be a stray dragon plucking her from the ground because trees and cover were scarce up in the Highlands. Her fear of dragons was the reason she was so drawn towards the Black Shroud in the first place: trees meant cover. Cover meant no dragons would be soaring through the skies looking for any sign of spoken ones. Naturally her mind forgot about the creatures that lived in the shroud, but she was a child back then and did not know better.

But she learned to know better later. The shroud was not as safe a place as she assumed it was. Dragons would not attack anyone willy-nilly. They attacked those who were clearly Ishgardian and of Ishgardian descend. Lahen’s ancestry did not lie in Ishgard back in the time where the Dragonsong War started – therefore dragons mostly ignored her. It had not been dragons that had slaughtered the adventurer group her parents had travelled with when she was just a year old, it had been Ixali raiders. Even her position as Azure Dragoon was undoubtedly linked to Midgardsormr having his claws in this place and in her life.

Lahen took a deep breath in this place devoid of temporal flow.

She had learned her fear and hatred were completely misplaced. She had begun to hate the Ixal at the time her aunt said it had been the beast tribe that had caused the death of Sanhghana and Nhex – it was the same time she, the other Warriors of Light, Cid and Alphinaud had been looking for the Enterprise to face Garuda. Her fear started to vanish the longer she travelled through Dravanian ground with the remains of the Scions, Estinien and Ysayle. She started changing. For better or for worse she did not know. Learning that dragons suffered under Nidhogg as much as her kind did opened her eyes. Even Estinien admitted he had not expected this kind of reveal sometime during their ascension to the Churning Mists.

Time started flowing again. The dragon opposite her bent her head away, the eyes suddenly looking dull from where the Warrior of Light stood.

“I had… feared as much… but I did not wish to believe such…”

“… There was nothing we could do. She… she saved our lives. Sadly at the cost of her own. But she must have known that when she asked Hraesvelgr to take her to us.”

“She… what?”

“… Asked Hraesvelgr. Without him she would have never found us or caught up with us, I suppose…”

The dragon looked back at the Miqo’te. She felt, even though her initial fear of dragons had long since faded, that her muscles tensed up.

“So he did… bring her there. He most likely was there. But he did not stop Nidhogg – again.”

“I… there was absolutely nothing we could do about Nidhogg returning, either… it happened too fast for me to register what was going to happen and… I’m a failure of a Warrior of Light and Azure Dragoon both. I went through all that trouble to offer peace, and then this happens.”

Vidofnir seemed to contemplate her next words. The dragon looked up into the sky, and watched as the hatchlings drifted by. It was still snowing, and Lahen felt almost safer because of it. Snow was familiar. Snow was comforting. She took her strength from the cold, the courage to carry on.

“I have a question.”

“Go ahead.” The dragon did not look at her but continued watching the hatchlings above her head.

“I know where Nidhogg is. But I need to know how I can get the dragoon that supplied him with the body back. In one piece.”

“… Aether is hard to control, for every living being. Dragons do exist outside of that cycle, but we do take power from it. I suppose even with both his eyes supplying him, Nidhogg uses up tremendous amounts of energy to sustain himself. That dragoon friend of yours built up strong mental walls against Nidhogg after his initial possession.”

Lahen swallowed. The fight at the Steel Vigil, shortly after having taken care of Garuda. She remembered it vividly, the way her blood had seared and pounded in her ears as she had fought Estinien. The way the dragon spoke through him and through the wall the Echo provided. How both man and dragon had taunted her and her inexperience, and how she overcame all of this, and more importantly, Nidhogg himself at the end of the fight. She had wondered what Estinien had done a lot back then. He supplied a very lacking story of a long and hard recovery for… certain reasons he never explained. Vidofnir’s words simply confirmed that he indeed managed to build up a wall strong enough to withstand the Eye, even both Eyes until to point he admitted himself some respite.

“Break his concentration, and the energy flow will stop.”

“Oh, of course.” It was the first time Thia spoke, and Lahen felt her entire body grow cold. “We need a distraction, and someone to appeal to the man within the beast while it is distracted and no longer endlessly regenerating itself and controlling the man.”

Vidofnir finally looked back at the Miqo’te. “I fear thou alone will not suffice for distraction. Thou and me would not be enough – we need help. Help from dragons other than those of Anyx Trine.”

Thia hummed a little.

“Therefore you suggest we seek out Hraesvelgr, both to appeal to him to help us guide his brother to eternal rest without never-ending hatred, and to ask him about why he did fly Iceheart to her certain doom.”

* * *

Their departure from Falcon’s Nest had been in a hurry. They had picked up an adventurer who had been helping out in the stables at the time, as backup. Aymeric did not desire pulling any soldiers into this, and Lorven had actually recognised the Lalafell in the stables.

It was one of the people who had helped during Operation Archon, one who had fought Good King Mog and Leviathan with the Warriors of Light. A blissfully down-to-earth refugee from Ala Mhigo, and a bearer of a monk soul Crystal. And, of course, blessed with the Echo.

Lorven and the Lalafell followed Aymeric slowly.

“That’s the third day…”

“Ugh… I swear, if we do not find this infernal village and the woman you spoke of some part of my body will turn to ice and fall right off.”

Lorven laughed softly. “Such is Coerthas, my friend.”

“Yeah? Well, Coerthas can kiss my ass at this rate. If I get impaled by an icicle and released from the mortal coil it’ll never free me of this cold.”

“If Lahen heard that she might maul you, Ganon.”

The Ala Mhigan huffed. “Azure Dragoon or not, I’ll take her on. I’ll take both of you on at the same time.”

Aymeric’s chocobo made a dive, and both adventurers followed the lord commander. The wind was strong, but it was not snowing at the moment, surprisingly enough. It did not change the fact it was bitterly cold, but that was pretty much a given in the barren and icy lands of the Western Highlands. Though it had not always been like that, or so Lorven had been told. If anything it had been rainy here before the Calamity changed the weather conditions from now on until forever.

The Miqo’te shielded his eyes and looked around. It did indeed quite look like this had been a rainy region, with hills and flats to make a perfect place for raising cattle. And apparently cattle had been raised here, at least until dragons came in and destroyed the only settlement up here.

A little time passed, and ruins did indeed appear in the distance.

The three men landed, much to the nervous chocobos’ horror. They were chirping softly and danced around a little, but did stay put like any well-trained Ishgardian chocobo. Midgardsormr remained quiet and simply stood there – the dragon had been surprisingly quiet the entire time. Lorven walked up to stand beside Aymeric as the black-haired man stared at the ruins half-hidden under the snow. It seemed like there had been a giant landslide of a sort, and half the village was crushed underneath massive rocks. The wood and stone that still stuck out from where houses once had been was charred black. It was an eerie sight to behold.

“Is this it?” Lorven gestured at the rubble and the pitiful remains they saw. “This was Ferndale?”

“… Yes.” Even the normally confident Aymeric looked unsettled. “I had no idea it looked like this by now.”

He fell quiet and looked on ahead again. Lorven did the same – if he remembered the tale correctly, this was the village where not a single soul other than Estinien had survived an attack by Nidhogg and his horde. The place Ser Alberic had doomed by stopping to battle with his inner dragon (which, as it was for every Azure Dragoon, was Nidhogg himself). Almost mechanically Lorven started moving towards it. He did not dare calling for Heustienne to make sure she was indeed here.

It might have been one of his more intelligent decisions. Mid-motion he saw something bright red flare up from the corner of his eyes. It was a familiar searing red, though last time he had seen it, it had been in the… Aery.

“Watch out,” he barked, “we’ve been spotted! And not by Lady Heustienne!”

His body moved on its own, remembering the fight all too well. It was as if he saw the blood again, as if he saw himself suspended in the air while the aether around him seemed to move in to suffocate him. Just for a moment he thought he smelled charred flesh and hair again, and imagined Lahen, Nemi and Estinien by his side.

The only thing he did see was a familiar mass of black scales, and he found himself staring into the same burning red eyes that had played a vital role in this drama set up by the Archbishop. Nidhogg.

Aymeric had been mistaken.

Without even thinking twice about it he grabbed his daggers. It was almost impossible to get out of here without somehow injuring the dragon – the landslide made this place essentially a death trap. Lorven looked to the side quickly. Of course the chocobos had been added to the charred rubble lying around, and he felt a sting in his chest. Dragons would of course take men’s only way to get out of here in one piece.

Just as he decided he was going to throw a knife and then use the other as a miniature sword Aymeric ran past him.

“Stop, stop, stop!” Just the fact the man was going to try to reason with this monster was admirable – admirable but very, very foolish. “We are not here to fight!”

“…”

“I swear we are not here to fight.”

“…”

“Please, I just—“

“Those who live by the sword will die by the sword. Those who do not wish to fight die like the cowards they are, treacherous creature.”

Lorven lunged forward and tackled the Elezen to the side. He felt his backside suddenly heat up, and he let out a hiss as he bolted back up to his feet – he had just barely avoided the ball of aetheric flame and managed to get Aymeric out of harm’s way as well. The Lord Commander simply stared at the dragon in horror – it was pretty clear he was trying to see Estinien rather than Nidhogg, but the massive creature burning with hatred and made of scales bigger than Lorven’s entire torso made it hard to see anything resembling the Azure Dragoon. Yet they all knew that somewhere within that shell was Estinien. Was it even possible to defeat this thing without the help of another Azure Dragoon, or at least a simple dragoon?

He dodged another fireball and barely managed to avoid being crushed by massive claws. Yet his mind drifted off into that very remote space that he and the Warriors of Light shared.

‘Lahen. Lahen, I made a mistake. A horrible mistake. Please. I found Nidhogg – Estinien. Please, I need you right now,’ he begged into the silence.

It was Midgardsormr that saved his skin from another direct blow. Where that the dragon even been? Lorven cared little and repeated his almost desperate call into the silence of their connection.

* * *

Nemi went pale. She heard the call loudly and clearly, even if it had not been meant for her. Yet she knew there was nothing she could do right now, as that call had come from far away. Too far away. She could theoretically cross this space by teleporting, but teleporting to places where no aetherite was there to channel her energy onto was hard. If she did that she would be essentially useless, and Lorven was in a fight that meant either life or death right now. He could not need additional baggage. Instead she folded her hands together over the book she had been reading and closed her eyes.

‘You gotta live through this, you hear me!’

* * *

 

Hraesvelgr had offered precious little information.

She breathed in sharply and cursed, only for her anger to be cut short by Thia interrupting her train of thought. What exactly her companion said she did not remember. She started remembering less and less, as if there were blank spots in her memory. Yet at the same time it was all clear and sharp, and it all made sense.

The strange feeling intensified as she spoke once more with Vidofnir. The dragon said something about feeling it too.

Feeling what?

* * *

 

The ‘fight’ dragged on. It had been an hour of awfully one-sided hide and seek. Three men and a dragon barely stood a chance against another dragon that was at least seven times the size of the first dragon. Lorven’s muscles ached as he ran past another Crimson Prize and took a jab at the Sable one currently imprisoning Aymeric. Ganon was already attempting to break through this thing, and Aymeric only dangled in the air helplessly.

Without an Eye and an Azure Dragoon on their side this battle was impossible to win. They knew that, and they knew they were most likely going to die here. Unless they managed to get onto Midgardsormr’s back – all three of them.

Aymeric was desperately gasping for breath, and Lorven felt his chest constrict – they were not going to make it. They did not have a healer to get the Lord Commander back on his feet after losing consciousness from lack of breath, and they certainly could not lug a man as tall as that around. Lorven’s slashing became more desperate, Ganon’s punching more frantic; yet both of them knew that this was fighting a lost cause.

“Augh!”

Another Crimson Prize was tossed into their direction, and both barely managed to avoid it, all while watching Aymeric’s eyes suddenly go wide. It was like watching a horrible Echo vision where they only saw death over and over, and now it would happen just like in those—

A spear sailed through the air, a spear that seemed to be cloaked in flame. It pierced through the Sable Prize, shattering it into a million pieces, and bouncing off the solid rock nearby. Aymeric dropped to the ground and started coughing, barely able to get to his knees.

“Now’s not the time to lie on the ground, Lord Commander! Get up, Ser! Get up and back to your senses!”

Lorven turned his head – he had only seen that person, and heard that voice fairly recently. She looked different than the woman he had seen in his vision, her hair longer, her armour gone – but it was the same woman.

He couldn’t even say anything about it, as the woman dashed forward, grabbed Aymeric and hauled him across the ground to someplace safer, and in the same movement she lunged forward to grab her spear again. She regained her footing so fast he could barely see it happening, and then launched herself backwards – dragoons were almost impossibly fast in combat, even if they wore heavy armour.

Somewhere behind him armour clinked. It couldn’t have been Aymeric, as the man was struggling to get up right before his eyes.

The next voice that overpowered even the growl of Nidhogg was familiar, and Lorven felt himself breathe out in relief.

“Oi! What the hell were you guys thinking! I didn’t set out to find a solution just to scratch you all off his claws when I’m done!”

A flash of pink and black.

The Azure Dragoon.


	9. Dem Ruf Folge leisten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They answer the call. The wheels of fate one Warrior of Light brought to a screeching halt did not cease - they carried on, quietly, and changed direction. They recover not only allies, but also a villain.

Nemi couldn’t rest and stared out of the window. The sun was setting by now, but her entire body seemed to be overflowing with energy. Even the fairy was fluttering around nervously, her movements fast and almost erratic. Every fibre of the scholar’s body was on high alert, and she felt blood pounding through her ears.

It felt as if she were there with them, as if they were in the Aery again to face Nidhogg. She felt the same bristle of energy through the link that the Warriors of Light shared, she almost could taste how the air got heavier and heavier with every breath of fire from the great wyrm. Nemi narrowed her eyes. She felt it, but couldn’t do anything. The worst kind of thing for a healer to feel.

With the same kind of restless energy as her fairy she jumped up and bolted out the door. She ran past several confused servants and almost bumped into Francel on her way out, but she needed fresh air. Air that preferably did not turn into a scorched-smelling mess.

She stopped at the Congregation. She was out of breath. In almost the same second as she looked around a familiar pounding started in her head.

_It’s Ishgard – but not one she recognises. There’s flowers on some of the windowsills, small, potted, but very robust-looking flowers. Even through the muted vision of the Echo they look almost vibrant. A blue much unlike any she ever saw in the waking world before this vision._

_Nemi looks around, and almost immediately regrets doing so. She realises she’s still at Foundation, somewhere she doesn’t recognise. But the person opposite her she recognises – even if he lacks a few years, and is much thinner than she would have ever imagined him being._

_Whatever he had been talking about was ignored by his ‘conversation partner’. Clearly a soldier normally on duty inside the Vault, and the man’s eyes are cold as ice as he looks at the child. The child in return looks up with wide, pleading eyes, and lets out a small groan as the man eventually turned around to leave._

_It’s a surreal sight to behold. This child was going to be the lord commander, the one ordering these men around in the future. But right now Aymeric was nothing but a child, hopelessly lost and quite obviously half mad from fear. Or… is that worry in his eyes? She can’t tell, and the kid crumpling to his knees certainly does not make it any easier to try to make sense of this situation._

_“Please… please, I just…”_

_Suddenly he turns his head around and his entire body seems to seize up in panic._

_“Oh no! No, no, no, I shouldn’t have left her!”_

_His energy seems to come back to him, and all of a sudden he bolts off. Nemi’s pretty sure she has never seen the adult Aymeric she knows move that fast, but before she can follow him the vision blurs once more._

“Ungh… great… Why do I always get the nonsensical Echo flashbacks…?”

Nemi staggered a little before slinking off to the Forgotten Knight.

* * *

 

_“Breathing is easy, once you learn how to.”_

_“Beg pardon? Are you implying I cannot breathe?”_

_“Ahaha. No, not like that. You breathe just fine. But dragoons need to learn a certain way of breathing, mostly due to the fact we spend most of our time airborne or on the backs of scaled beasts. Without the right way of breathing, we’d choke to death. And if not from lack of air, then because of the smoke.”_

_“Pray tell, then, what makes your way of breathing so different from mine?”_

_“Heh. Really? I thought you had ambitions to learn how to wield a sword, now that you have been promoted.”_

_“A good commander knows many things, Estinien.”_

_“Of course.”_

Aymeric staggered to his feet. He still felt like his entire body was being crushed by sheer aetheric energy. Yet he found himself stand up straight despite his entire body screeching in agony, and he took a deep breath. Out of the corner of his eyes he saw both dragoons raise an eyebrow at how he ended up standing – it was a stance that most lance-wielders took shortly before quite literally jumping into action. Lorven and his adventuring companion (who was greeted by the Azure Dragoon with a pleased yell) quickly explained the situation, before the four people scattered again to dodge one of these accursed fireballs. Lorven seemed to yell a solution to this problem to Heustienne, and the woman simply nodded. Her face was full of determination, an expression not quite befitting someone who had spent weeks out here in the icy wilderness. He had expected more despair there, more obvious exhaustion. The dragoon simply gestured and cleared her throat.

“Truth be told, I hid around these parts. After seeing Nidhogg crash-land here I thought my eyes were deceiving me, but alas. I am quite glad I set up my camp nearby, otherwise I would not have heard you all fighting. And when Lahen came in on the back of another dragon I just knew something bigger than an unfortunate scouting squad or group of hunters had made their way here.”

Lorven nodded, finally drawing his second dagger from its sheath. “I see. Well, it’s good to have you – both of you. As I just said, the basic plan is someone distracts Nidhogg while the other group tries talking some sense into Estinien.”

“Mhm. That much I learned too. We ought to only make sure the dragon cannot focus, and someone else manages to draw out the dragoon within.” Lahen’s voice seemed a little odd; too calm. She stared at Nidhogg who was reading another fireball. “Disrupt the energy flow. That is our primary goal. The secondary sets in once we have managed to divert his attention. That being said, I know not how to properly draw Estinien out – only how to infuriate him, but I think anger is not the thing we can need. Nidhogg provides more than enough of that already.”

They scattered again, and Aymeric felt his heart skip a beat. He was still out of breath, and rolling through the snow did not make his breathlessness better the slightest. On the other hand he rolled and saw a bow sticking out of the snow – surprisingly enough the bow was not that old yet. Maybe it had been an unfortunate group of hunters as Heustienne had mentioned.

It had been quite a while since he had last held a bow, but it felt familiar in his hands immediately when he grabbed it. A few scattered arrows, and he was set up.

Heustienne looked at the dragon ahead of them. “Well, that’s all nice and such, but… Who will risk life and limb to distract this monster? From what Master Lorven here said you will need me on the ‘bring some sense back to Estinien’ front.”

The ninja gestured before turning to look at the Azure Dragoon and the monk. “Like we did back in the Praetorium?” he asked almost sheepishly.

The Lalafell huffed and crossed his arms. “If we were to do that you’d have to be a spell-slinging madman that almost blew me and Lahen here sky-high because he got a little too aggressive on the area-covering spells front. Nay, I’d much prefer if you remained a knife-nut like with Leviathan.”

“Once you two are done nagging,” Lahen began and twirled her lance around, “tell me. I’ll cover the front, since I’m wearing armour and all. If I jump that’s your sign to attack, because a jumping dragoon is always much more interesting than a small monk and a whiny ninja.”

The other Warrior of Light and the Ala Mhigan with the Echo both muttered something before nodding. Aymeric had always wondered how groups of adventurers made it without someone to take all hits and grabbing the enemy’s attention, while the rest either made sure no wounds were sticking or that the mobs went down fast. Brute force was something very few adventurers looked for, and it usually led to death when tried in the field. A group of three attackers made short notice of any enemy, as long as it was on its own…

Which was exactly the situation on hand. The three nodded, before Lorven looked over his shoulder.

“Midgardsormr and Aymeric. Actually, Midgardsormr, could we request your support here?”

The dragon nodded.

“Aymeric, you and Heustienne should try to do your thing when we got Nidhogg distracted.”

He couldn’t reply. The wind was still knocked out of him, but apparently his expression was answer enough. Barely a few heartbeats later the group of adventurers jumped into action, followed by the ridiculously small-looking great wyrm, father of all dragons. Aymeric staggered backwards to lean against the large boulder behind him.

“I… apologise Lady… Heustienne, but… I cannot quite… yet…”

“I understand.” The woman’s voice was not sympathetic the slightest. She did not look annoyed however – she remained neutral, her gaze fixed on the dragon. “When you manage to catch your breath again, try and join in. But no one here expects you to jump back into action as if nothing happened.”

The Lord Commander actually blacked out for a few moments. Said moments were around ten minutes in actuality, but it felt like much less to him. By the time he managed to open his eyes again he saw that the dragon was furiously stomping around, spewing fireballs into every direction right in front of him. The adventurers seemed to enjoy this little brawl, as the female Miqo’te launched herself into the air repeatedly. Her jabs and swipes seemed to be done with the blunt end of her spear; she was only distracting and infuriating the dragon. The ninja hopped from claw to claw, almost effortlessly swinging his fists (where had his daggers gone?) connecting with solid scales. And the monk got in punch after punch.

_“Hm. I can’t seem to get it right.”_

_“Well, you don’t necessarily need it; therefore it is hard for you to understand. Nothing to be ashamed of.”_

_“Still… I wish I could get it right. You wasted almost your entire day trying to teach me.”_

_“There are worse thing to waste your time with, though. You at the very least are a pleasant companion, Aymeric.”_

_“… Huh?”_

_“Yeah, yeah. The loner just admitted he likes being around some select people. A real shocker. Next thing we know is that Graoully and Vishap march upon us on the Steps of Faith. Now, let’s just try this one last time. You need to…”_

The air was cold. Despite that the smell of ash, smoke and death was almost overbearing, albeit not a single person currently fighting had died. It was what surrounded this village, this constant air of failure. The failure of the previous Azure Dragoon, and the failure of the current ones. While the failure of the previous had led to the village being routed entirely, the current ones’ failure had led to the dragon being back. Yet in the back of his head he heard the oath between man and dragon once more, the promise to build a peace that would last.

Aymeric closed his eyes. It felt as if time came to a crawl, and within that slow passage of time he managed to catch his breath again. The burning smoke seemed to ease away into just cold air, cold air that filled his lungs.

His senses came back with a snap – suddenly the dull noise became a clear, screeching noise. It was Heustienne, almost desperately begging the man within the dragon to come back. That he was better than that and knew it, and that it was not that hard to overcome the dragon. If he just tried it, that is. The adventurers were desperately fighting as well. The dragoon was bleeding from a blow to the head, one that seemed to have almost completely torn off an ear of hers. The ninja moved sluggish, fatigue finally setting in. The monk tried to stay sharp for the two of them, but he was just a single Lalafell.

Heustienne dove past a Crimson Prize, and once more scorching smoke burned in the lord commander’s eyes. He did, however, move to where the dragoon stood slowly. She looked over at him rather spooked (and by the Fury, did she look exhausted by now).

The Elezen took a deep breath. Doing that made Nidhogg hesitate for a second, just a split second. It was clear that his energies had been diverted, as the air seemed to be less choking overall now. The adventurers had done their part very well; the great wyrm was not able to keep up consuming that much energy. Midgardsormr swooped in to grab a fainted Lorven to get him to safety.

“Hey.”

Of course there was no reply – there would have never been a reply in the first place. Dragon or no, Estinien did not like to acknowledge people until they spoke to him clearly.

“Looks like you did it after all. You taught a non-dragoon how to breathe like one. Next thing we know I’ll be jumping up and down that accursed tower. Lord Haurchefant sarcastically congratulated me on not having had any losses within the city walls from the dragoon’s idiotic training the other day, in fact. He wanted me to forward that to you. Face to face, if you so will.”

“…”

Aymeric laughed a little, while every person (and dragon) present seemed to freeze in place. Heustienne and Lahen both looked confused and slightly terrified, Ganon had his fists raised and stared at the dragon. Lorven was unconscious still, and Midgardsormr’s gaze wandered from Nidhogg to Aymeric and back to Nidhogg.

The great wyrm himself was completely frozen in place, almost as terrified as Heustienne was.

“You should have seen that. He was all smug about it, and that Warrior of Light was just giggling right behind him. They’re an odd pair, the two of them. And right as they left, she giggling and he laughing to himself, I realised that this is the Ishgard you and I both wanted. Remember that? An Ishgard—“

“—free of war.” It was Nidhogg’s voice; but yet it was not. It seemed to be cracking, and every person present suddenly moved. They all turned to look at Aymeric.

“Exactly. One where people can laugh about how idiotic certain customs are.” He took a few steps towards the dragon, despite his sight going blurry again. That attack had done more damage than he had anticipated, and ironically seemed to have undone some of the healing progress from his time in the Vault. Especially that sting in his arm was familiar. “But there’s more to that Ishgard, I realised. I realised it all too late, and I could not tell you until now. The future will have to be us and the Dravanians going hand in wing, if you so will. A link that we cannot create, unless we manage something. And that is to get rid of a common enemy. … Estinien of Ferndale. It was you who took the Warriors of Light into the Aery to slay Nidhogg together, correct?”

“… Correct.”

“Then pray tell, why would you fuel the mad wyrm’s revenge further? You have managed to shield yourself off. Why not build up that ward again, and return to how things used to be? If nothing else, the Azure Dragoon can be a link between Dravanians and Ishgardians, for you understand Dravanian while others do not. And there is a certain other Azure Dragoon, who, by all means, is a rookie compared to most other dragoons. Is it really wise to let someone that young and inexperienced lead the dragoons?”

“… The same concerns were spoken when you were promoted to Lord Commander and I was chosen by the Eye.”

“Exactly. Time to prove the highborn lords and ladies wrong, then. Come back home, Estinien.”

* * *

 

If nothing else, Yda was always pleasant company to have. Nemi stirred her tea and watched as the pugilist went on an elaborate story about how she and her companions had snuck into sylph-controlled territory to make sure their primal lord had not been summoned. This story in particular always made a smile creep onto Nemi’s face – how the sylph impersonating Thancred had whined about his pretty face getting dirty was one of the funniest things to remember about their adventures surrounding the Lord of Levin. And Yda, believe it or not, was an excellent storyteller. She had the entire bar captivated, children and old men alike. They all listened to the Sharlayan as if she was foretelling a bright future, and Nemi sipped her tea serenely smiling to herself.

Tataru too was smiling brightly, and even the normally withdrawn Y’shtola seemed to enjoy hearing this tale again.

A familiar ringing in her ear made Nemi perk up. The linkshell.

A moment after her activating it she heard Haurchefant’s excited voice.

“You won’t believe this! Actually, I can’t believe it either! Congregation, my dear, meet us there!”

She excused herself and left the Forgotten Knight. The sun should be setting at around this time, but she couldn’t tell exactly. It was snowing heavily, and she stomped through the city with her fairy following behind. Once more it seemed like the city was holding its breath, which usually meant something big, almost scandalous happened.

She arrived to see Haurchefant merely a few minutes later. He seemed to have been waiting for her, and wheeled over immediately. She shrugged as she saw him approach, as if to ask ‘what’s up?’

Instead of giving her an answer he gestured towards the entrance, and she followed him slowly. She was afraid to check the mental link between her and the other Warriors of Light. If they had failed at escaping Nidhogg she would never forgive herself.

A moment later he felt someone pat her shoulder. A tall Miqo’te, half his face bandaged but otherwise he looked quite okay with the world. Although his smile was exhausted, very exhausted.

“Lorven! Seven hells, what happened to your face?!”

“Nidhogg happened. Nothing compared to Lahen, she lost an ear. And Ganon got almost scorched alive for all his troubles. But that’s beside the point! Minor injuries and such happen.”

Nemi didn’t know how he could call something like a lost ear, half his face clawed or several burns ‘minor injuries’ but she tried to remain calm. The fairy fluttered up to Lorven and started applying a healing spell of some sort, which made both of them laugh.

“Well, we all look much better than Estinien, but… Well, see for yourself.”

“Estinien?”

Finally she looked over to the beds (she had not realised she had been led to the infirmary until now) and held her breath. It was indeed Estinien, albeit most of his formerly pristine armour was dented beyond recognisable. His face was pale, and he was most certainly unconscious, but it was something else that horribly distracted her.

Scales. He was covered in scales, as if he were an Elezen-Auri hybrid. Yet the soot black scales looked nothing like the ones Au Ra from the Xaela tribes had. The pattern was irregular, covering parts of the face (and the neck for that matter) that was not covered in cases of actual Au Ra.

She turned back to look at Lorven, but instead her vision started going fuzzy. The Miqo’te raised an eyebrow.

_Ferndale. There’s blood in the snow, and Lorven lays some way off. Midgardsormr stands over him, as if he had just dragged the Warrior of Light away. Lahen staggers around somewhere, trying to lean against something. Her long hair is matted with her own blood, and where one of her ears had been is nothing but even more blood and torn flesh. Their old friend and fellow adventurer Ganon stands some ways off, grabbing fistfuls of snow to soothe the burns on his skin._

_A blonde woman Nemi does not know stands there, and she assumes that this is Heustienne. And then there is Aymeric, slowly dragging himself forwards. He stumbles and staggers, but his way is clear – he is trying to get to the man standing there._

_“Good to… have you… back.”_

_Before he can make it the Lord Commander collapses, falling forwards as if someone had just knocked him over. A moment later the figure he had been trying to approach also crumples to a heap on the snow. It is that very moment that Lady Heustienne unfreezes, suddenly sprinting over to drag everyone to a pile._

_“Ser Ganon, was it?” she asks the monk. “You can teleport, correct? Could you be as kind as to teleport us to Ishgard? We all need immediate medical attention.”_

Nemi blinked open her eyes again, only to be met with a pair of eyes right in front of hers – a familiar pink and orange.

“Eep!”

The Miqo’te now opposite her flicked her remaining ear back and then shrugged, backing up a little. It struck Nemi as a little odd that Lahen would not comment on anything, but that might have been exhaustion – the dragoon did not look like she was supposed to be up and standing. The fact that there was blood everywhere did not help the slightest. Somewhere in the after-vision daze Nemi missed a heartbeat and the next thing she noticed was Lorven shoving Lahen away, though he was surprisingly gentle doing so. Lahen’s mouth twitched a little as she stumbled away, but it was clear that she had simply grinned for a split second.

“Nemi, are you alright?”

“Sure am. How about you, bandage face the first?”

Lorven snorted and rolled his eyes. He instead gestured vaguely before giving up and throwing his arms up in the air.

“Well, everyone capable of walking is supposed to leave this room. Ganon needs some rest, and who knows when Estinien will wake. No, Lahen, that does not include you. Lie back down. I’m serious, lie back down, you look like you’re about to faint and you lost a lot of blood.”

The Azure Dragoon grumbled a little before slinking back into the previously unoccupied bed, her gaze still fixed on Nemi. Something about that stare was unsettling, unfamiliar – it wasn’t the kind of look Lahen normally shot people.

Suddenly uncomfortable Nemi backed out of the room, followed by Lorven, Haurchefant, Heustienne and Aymeric.

* * *

 

“Hm.”

“You do know you’ll only make them uncomfortable when you stare at them like that, right?”

“… Uh huh.”

“I’m dead serious here. I may have struck this deal fully aware and willingly and what not, but those two wouldn’t believe that if they found that out by themselves.”

Lahen rolled around on her makeshift bed – it was uncomfortable to only have one side to lie on, and her restlessness only made matters worse. Eventually she managed to focus on the window and watched the snow fall for a while before sighing into the silence.

“… Thia.”

“Ere you ask, I was indeed wondering whether you planned on telling them or not.”

“Why that? You gonna employ different tactics? Seriously, don’t think I don’t know you have a hidden agenda. It comes with being an Ascian, right? So why aren’t you out there and, dunno, trying to coax beast tribes into summoning their primals again?”

This time it was Thia who sighed – but through Lahen’s mouth.

“Petty nonsense such as that is only what the higher-ups meddle with. The lower-downs mess with mortals. And the middle-roaders like I are essentially free to do whatever. I had assumed Warriors of Light would know such.”

“Nah. I mess with dragons, not with aether.”

After that the Ascian fell silent for a long time. She was worried about the scholar; it would be easy for her to see through the paper-thin disguise as Warrior of Light if she so willed. Thankfully the woman seemed plenty distracted at the moment, but she could not help but wonder how the Au Ra would react when she was focusing on her allies for once.

It was going to be trouble down the line, but for now it could be safely ignored. No other person seemed able to read aetheric energies and changes in such however – the ninja had the ability to manipulate aether, yes, but he lacked a clear view of energy. None of the Ishgardian men seemed capable of doing such; the only one that was worrisome for now was the former host of Nidhogg. That man, however, was asleep. Possibly having dreams related to the dragon he had hosted not too long ago. Therefore not an issue, at least until he woke.

Then there was, of course, the blind Sharlayan, but she could be easily avoided, seeing as she and her companion apparently had set out together to look into assorted clues regarding the still missing Scions.

The only issues were the scholar, the young arcanist, and possibly the Elezen man.

And, of course, Hydaelyn. But it was questionable whether the Mothercrystal would do anything or not – she always quite preferred staying her hands when her own champions were concerned. And a willing takeover as such could not be broken that easily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe I just sat propped against the heater for 3 hours watching the Letter of the Producer. My back hurts and I actually dunno if I'll continue the numb grind of getting everything to level 30. Tales of Magic was already agonising enough to get (because I hate thaumaturge), the crafters can eat a dick and I bought my way to level 30 as fisher (granted I already was level 29).
> 
> Ah, we're nearing the end of this by the way. three or four chapters to go, most likely. Can't make a full estimate, but around that.


	10. Schneetreiben

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And snow keeps falling. Winter has Ishgard in its cold, unmoving grasp. But there's significant changes happening to the city. One steadfast companion is recovered... but there's something bound to happen, and they wait.

“… The last time I saw him this happy was… actually, I do not think I have ever seen him that happy.”

“Ahaha, really? He’s positively _beaming_.”

Nemi had to admit, she herself was oddly happy as well. It was the next day after the mismatched group had returned from the Western Highlands, and of course they gathered where they had met the day before. Nemi was idly standing next to Haurchefant, who had an eyebrow raised and looked over at Aymeric – the black-haired Elezen was smiling widely. It was a nice change of pace, especially since after revisiting the Vault the man had seemed completely spooked.

Alphinaud peeked into the room with narrowed eyes, then relaxed when he saw it were indeed the Warriors of Light and assorted Ishgardians.

“Ah, good. I had feared someone had shown me the wrong way, considering the lack of yelling and such.”

“Well,” Lorven stretched and waved the arcanist in, “I don’t think most of us feel like yelling right now.”

A low grumble came from underneath a blanket. Lahen absolutely refused coming out from under there for some reason, but no one paid her much mind. They all assumed she was being unnecessarily prickly again and let her do as she desired; what no one knew was that she was instead observing everyone quietly. It was better to not draw too much attention to her for the time being.

A few minutes passed before someone in the room moved again.

Aymeric’s smile got even brighter, and Nemi wondered how much more was necessary until the man exploded into pure aether right on the spot he stood.

“Good morning.”

“… Gh?”

Estinien blinked open one eye and immediately closed it again with a soft noise of discomfort. A few heartbeats passed before he attempted it again, this time even sitting up slowly. Though he was quite a ways off from where Nemi stood she noticed something about his eyes. Apparently she was not the only one, because Haurchefant shook his head quickly and Heustienne, who had been leaning against the wall, breathed in sharply. Alphinaud merely raised an eyebrow.

The teenager huffed. “… Huh. ‘Twould be the first time I hear and see something like this happening, though I doubt there are many comparable stories in existence.”

“… Fury, you… sound like I’m… disfigured…” Estinien spoke slowly and narrowed his eyes. He looked at Aymeric. “… I am not… am I?”

The Lord Commander merely shrugged. “You are alive and well, which is all we should care about. But I cannot quite say you are ‘disfigured’… Merely a bit on the drake-ish side now.”

“Drake…ish?”

“Well, maybe Au Ra would be the better word here. Scales and limbal rings, though you do seem to lack any horns or tails.”

The Azure Dragoon remained silent and simply raised a hand to his face. He drew his shaky fingers across it, and for a split moment he seemed horrified when he indeed felt scales there. The next thing he saw were scales on the back of his hand, too.

“… Good grief.”

This time it was Nemi who laughed. “Ah, it’s not that bad, trust me. You look like a Xaela-Wildwood half-blood, with the Elezen being dominant. It certainly looks better than when you had claws and wings and were Nidhogg entirely, really.”

The blanket heap called Lahen Al’nebar shifted slightly, but otherwise there was no comment from the Miqo’te. Lorven squinted at the heap, but remained silent, whereas Heustienne shrugged when Estinien finally saw her. If Nemi remembered correctly those two had been training partners and rivals, and retained their friendly yet competitive relationship even after Estinien won their unofficial race for the title of Azure Dragoon. The look they shared was definitely that of people who had known each other for a while.

“Looks like I win, Estinien.”

“… Ah, yes. The ‘He won’t last 20 years as Azure Dragoon before he screws up horribly and gets himself killed’ bet you made with Alberic the day I became Azure Dragoon, correct? Afraid to tell you that, despite my screw-up here, I am still alive. Your bet with him is not over yet, my dear.”

Without the helm it did not look like Estinien at all, but that grin with his teeth showing certainly was the man she had travelled to the Churning Mists with. Nemi quickly noted that his teeth looked slightly sharper than before, but did not comment on it – she was quite certain people saw that, anyway. Almost carelessly she started messing with Haurchefant’s hair before realising what she was doing, and she withdrew her hands quickly. It was probably too late to hide a blush there, but for some reason she couldn’t find herself caring. It felt strangely nice to be able to just mess with his hair like that; and that with not a single soul around her commenting on it.

Heustienne excused herself and left the room, leaving only the adventurers and the Ishgardians behind.

Nemi moved forwards slightly, quickly mentioning that she was a healer and wanted to check on something. Estinien simply remained still as always, and Nemi managed to look at how he had changed properly now. The scales were too oddly placed and way too dark for a true Au Ra half-blood, and the limbal rings were almost unsettlingly blood red. The backs and the tips of his ears were scaled too, and Nemi could not help wondering if that felt strange somehow. After that she did the usual things – checked his pulse, made sure his eyes were not dull or unfocused, looked for any sign of fatigue. Estinien however seemed in perfect condition other than simple exhaustion; his reaction times however were as if he had never turned into a dragon for weeks. The dragoon stared at her as she backed up to tell that he as perfectly okay, and relaxed slightly when he heard that.

“But, well, we shouldn’t drag him out of bed quite yet. He still needs rest, much like I assume the blanket pile and Ganon need.”

“The blanket pile’s got a name, Nemi.” That low growl made Estinien flinch. Had he not known Lahen and Ganon were in here?

The monk was still fast asleep, and the younger Azure dragoon finally poked her head out from underneath the blanket. Apparently someone had managed to clean the blood off of her, seeing as her bedhead was the usual as always. Her eyes were narrowed as she glared at the scholar, and Nemi just laughed a little. At least Lahen was doing such jabs again after weeks of hostility – a good and relieving sign, seeing as the Warriors of Light all shared a mental link. Lahen was less cut off from that, and both the ninja and the scholar thought they felt how irritated she was.

“… What… what happened to her ear…?” Estinien’s voice was uncharacteristically silent. He probably already knew the answer.

“Nidhogg happened,” was all the Miqo’te grumbled before slinking back under her blanket.

The Elezen went pale and sunk back into his pillow. He stared at the ceiling for a while. “I suppose… apologies are in order… no one here would be here were it not for… me.”

“Bollocks,” a mumble from Ganon’s general direction made everyone jump, “don’t go blaming yerself now. If it weren’t for you, some other dragon or worse, a magic-slinging heretic siding with dragons would have burned me, torn her ear off, and what not.”

Apparently the monk had only pretended to be asleep, and despite the burns that must still hurt he grinned.

“But hey, not everyone can say they managed getting you out of there alive, dragoon. Just like not everyone can say they stormed a Garlean stronghold and such. It never gets boring when you guys are around.”

* * *

 

A few days passed in silence. Quite literally so, seeing as the snowfall soon turned into another blizzard tormenting the region. Inside the infirmary Lahen lamented the fact that she was not able to visit Anyx Trine this time; she had mentioned something about the way the dragons had enjoyed the snowfall in their own strange way. She was, however, not able to give any details on that, leaving everyone a bit puzzled. Her attention span had never been good, and neither had her short term memory been, but forgetting important events and the details surrounding them was odd, even for the Coerthan-born Miqo’te. Nemi credited the blow to her head which had torn off her ear – an explanation which even the confused Lahen seemed to accept.

The next morning marked the day Estinien, despite better judgement, got up and left the room. He seemed unable to stay in the same room as the two people that had suffered the most while being Nidhogg’s distraction. Though he did not like to admit it, something about Al’nebar wincing every time she turned in her bed and the adventurer whimpering in his sleep was unsettling enough to drive him out. He had never really liked being around injured people anyway.

Not that his body agreed with him leaving. After a few steps every muscle in his body started screeching and begging him to go back to bed, or at least lie down once more. Through gritted teeth he denied himself that kind of relief and continued his slow march through Foundation. Before the Nidhogg episode he had forced the other Azure Dragoon through this as well – and she had accepted this kind of training. Though a limp after being blasted unconscious by darkness was not really the same as turning into a dragon, and turning back into a human, Estinien realised.

There was an infernal need to either roll up on the ground and instantly succumb to Nidhogg again or simply vanish. It might have been better if he had been erased from history books as the Azure Dragoon who tried and failed to withstand Nidhogg, rather than the one who succumbed and lived to tell the tale. Twice, even, not that Ishgard would ever learn this part of the story (he hoped).

After half an hour he had to stop moving. With a small groan he leaned against a wall – at least this morning was blizzard-free. The only thing that told the story of the heavy snowfall were the snowdrifts that covered the streets, and the piles of snow in certain places. The accursed frozen water was even worse than rain, as his nightmares of rain and smoke had been replaced by those of snow and rubble, whenever they were not about ancient Allagan contraptions up in the skies.

He closed his eyes. Two legs and two arms seemed to be the completely wrong set of limbs to him still, and the lack of a tail and wings was disorienting. Nidhogg thankfully was dormant now, but the Azure Dragoon was quite certain that once the dragon recovered from this blow and whenever he got close to the Eye again there would trouble down the line.

… Now that he thought about it, he had no idea where the Eye – the _Eyes_ , even – was. Not a single person had mentioned it and his heart skipped a beat. If it was gone then there would be no immediate danger to Ishgard until the day he inevitably found it again.

“I thought I’d find you out here. You were never quite the person to rest when they’re told to. And as unpredictable as you dragoons are in fights, your patterns are rather predictable whenever you are injured.”

Estinien opened his eyes and sighed. He was rather thankful it was the lord commander who found him, as opposed to any of the Warriors of Light or people otherwise affiliated with House Fortemps.

“You always seem to retrace steps. So naturally it would be close to the Steps of Faith that I would find you. You always flee scenes of injury and battle.”

“…”

“Granted, it possibly comes from being the only survivor of an entire village. But that is not the situation right now.” This time it was Aymeric who sighed before looking up into the sky for a moment. “You should not worry about things like this. Injuries happen, and every adventurer present knew that—“

“Yes, they did indeed know. Yet I could have prevented any such battle ever taking place if I had been better at withstanding Nidhogg. I put Ishgard into danger – I put you in danger. If the wyrm had managed to wrest control back from me when you spoke to me, Fury knows what I would have done.”

Aymeric blinked. It seemed so unlike him to not have a reply immediately. Normally, as Estinien had learned, the man was fully capable of dancing with words. A skill every person in powerful positions in this city needed, and one which Aymeric had more or less been ‘blessed’ with by his bastard-born status. If people looked down upon you for your birth then it was best to win their trust with words or other certain skills. Aymeric had learned how to speak in ways that drew people in, with a slow but melodic tone, and a certain way of structuring sentences. He was a tactician, and he made certain people knew such after merely a minute of speaking to the man. Haurchefant de Fortemps did not have a certain skill that made him stand out, but rather he had been blessed with almost bottomless friendliness, something that drew adventurers to him like moths to the light. And eventually it had drawn in the Warriors of Light.

But at the same time every Ishgardian and Coerthan was withdrawn in certain cases. Haurchefant was friendly, yes, but it was rare to actually get his friendship, or his trust even. Aymeric himself rarely spoke what he truly thought, as if he was playing chess against his conversation partner. There were rare instances where he spoke what he thought – and Estinien felt a cold shudder run down his spine as he thought about the last time he heard that.

The Vault, of course. An event that haunted everyone who had been there.

“Listen,” Aymeric’s voice was unnaturally quiet. “It is really not like that. There are many actors in this play, and I think the only one we can really blame here are Ascians. Naturally there are certain… megalomaniacs that get put into the equation, certain unforeseen changes in dispositions and allegiances, but at the end it were Ascians who set the stage for that happened in our lifetime. If we are to go further than that, who else can we blame but Thordan and his knights twelve? Yet at the same time they, too, must have learned why dragons live that long from someone. If Shiva and Hraesvelgr had not brought peace to their peoples, would Thordan ever have learned it? It is an endless cycle of blame being shifted around. You were as much an actor on this stage as I was, and as Nidhogg was. Of course had you not succumbed to the dragon, neither Al’nebar nor her friend would have been injured. But if you hadn’t, what would have happened? Would Al’nebar be the power that Nidhogg would have used to herald his return?”

For a moment he thought he felt the sting of her Dragonfire Dive once more, as if Haldrath had guided her steps in those final legs of their fight. If she, as a mere mortal, could accomplish something like this, what could she have gone as great wyrm? “… F-Fury…”

“Yes, that is the same conclusion I came to. A great wyrm, fuelled by whatever power drives the Warriors of Light? Nidhogg would not have chosen to recover and make you fully submit yourself to despair while cowering in Ferndale if he had that kind of body. ‘Twas a stroke of luck that it was you who became the dragon, not her. But at the same time I understand why you would attempt to flee. It got increasingly hard to stay around anyone associated with House Fortemps in recent times. You have a few injuries and turning into a dragon to blame yourself for – and I have the grave injury that would have resulted in death were it not for the Warriors of Light to be blamed for.”

Estinien stared into Aymeric’s pale blue eyes for a long while. Neither of them said anything, and even the strange feeling of being in the wrong body vanished a little in this moment. After a few minutes Aymeric cast his gaze to the ground instead.

“I never quite got to mention that back when you were in Ishgard still. But I would say we are even now. I saved your life back when you felled your first dragon, and you saved mine when you barged into the Vault with everyone else.”

“Wrong. You saved mine once again, therefore putting the score back into your favour.”

“No. No, Estinien, we are even now. You being back here and refusing to accept that is enough to keep me from going insane under the pressure of possibly leading Ishgard to her doom. Of course there are great supporters at my side, but none are what I would call… friends.”

“Now you are being ridiculous. Lady Lucia—“

“Is someone I would trust my life with, yes. But I see no reason to confide anything but my fears related to Ishgard’s fate with her. The personal feelings of a leader should not matter when he speaks to people related to his leadership.” Another heavy sigh escaped Aymeric’s lips before he looked back up with a smile. “Come, now. You should not be out of bed. Let’s get you back where you belong.”

It was a tempting offer, Estinien had to admit. The feeling of being in the wrong body came back slowly, and the two legs of his suddenly felt strangely weak. Like they were not supposed to support him at all, like he belonged on all fours or into the air. He breathed in slowly, and exhaled equally slowly. ‘You are a man, not a dragon,’ he tried reminding himself before looking back at the lord commander. It was the cool gaze of someone who had grown up knowing nothing but how unforgiving this city was to people who could not help their circumstances of birth. A gaze which many people he knew shared – Haurchefant of the Silver Fuller being the most prominent example, the other he recalled right off the bat being Hilda. Bastards, low-born half-bloods, even some of the older Au Ra had this calculating glare.

Much to Estinien’s surprise, the Lord Commander let out a soft and quiet laugh all of a sudden.

“Yes, it was exactly that kind of expression I so dearly missed. This cold, unmoving face you wear whenever your thoughts trail off to something not about slaying dragons.”

Estinien shook his head a little. He was confused – what was that even supposed to mean?

“No, I was quite serious, though. You belong back into bed until you are deemed fit to walk again. Oh, and… Welcome home. I truly hope that this time you’ll stay for good.”

* * *

 

“He’s still out like a bear during hibernation.”

“Err. I don’t think bears actually completely shut down when they hibernate.”

“Oh, really now? When did you become a bear expert, Ganon? Last time I checked you were on a roaring rampage of destruction against everything remotely Garlean.”

The Lalafell shrugged. The infirmary was quiet – Estinien was fast asleep and showed no sign of waking up any time soon. Therefore the Warrior of Light and her fellow adventurer were the only two awake. The fact that someone had locked the door to prevent any premature escapes from recovery did not help their boredom the slightest.

“Times change. Last time I checked you were half afraid of dragons and half keen on killing all of them. Next thing I know is you barging in to defeat a dragon without using actual violence against it, and having arrived at said battlefield on dragonback. No, I… Well, maybe plain violence is not the right approach. Killing Garleans won’t bring my parents or the Ala Mhigo I was told of back, let alone any of my teachers and companions that perished during the Calamity. Revenge is not the right way to waste your life. And surely the possibility to retake Ala Mhigo will open itself in the future – and I plan to be alive for that. I was but a new-born when Ala Mhigo fell, with my parents entrusting me to the next best person as the assault began so they could stand their ground as monks. And now that I am a man grown I want to be there, in the first row, when Ala Mhigans reclaim what was theirs.”

“A noble goal, at the very least. If only Nidhogg had learned the same in those thousand years of war.”

The Ala Mhigan whistled lowly. “Have you learned your lesson as well?”

“Eh?” The Miqo’te remaining ear twitched. “Revenge? Now listen, I never went on a blind genocide against Ixal. Sure, I hated being dragged into the encampment of those that think killing flightless ones and summoning Garuda are a waste of time. I hated every single one of these bastards, and thinking about the Garuda-faction’s settlement in the middle of Coerthas makes my blood boil in hatred, but I would never go on a blind vengeance run. My parents were adventurers; they knew that this was a possibility. They probably knew that the moment they decided that they wanted to flee La Noscea and follow my uncle and aunt to Coerthas. Does it make their deaths any less pointless? No. But still. Killing currently alive Ixal will not raise Q’nhex Tia and Q’sanhghana Rofh from their graves.”

Lahen scratched her face. Thia was being surprisingly quiet, and for some reason it did not feel right. The Ascian was up to something, and considering the blank spots in her memory were getting bigger and bigger, it could not be anything good. For a split moment Lahen felt like telling Ganon what she had done right there on the spot, but she choked up the moment she tried saying anything. She realised a moment too late that she wasn’t just getting choked up, but had actually started crying.

“Lahen, are you all right?”

“Y-Yeah. J-Just…”

She quickly wiped her eyes before looking at the Lalafell. It had been at least two years since they met, if she remembered that correctly. A group of adventurers, chosen because they had the Echo much like the three that were to be called Warriors of Light. A small force of people that were to storm Castrum Meridianum, a group of many different backgrounds. Ganon was the Ala Mhigan, Lahen was the Ishgardian. Nemi was the Lominsan, Lorven the tribal Miqo’te. Another Lalafell called Nenela had been the Ul’dahn from poor backgrounds, and an Au Ra called Calliope the rich counterpart to that. And then, of course, the three Xaela sisters Reisui, Cerridwen and Harkas. An odd group, yet one that overcame many more trials than that. Lahen’s deep fear of water had been a hindrance when they were getting ready to challenge Leviathan, something that young Nenela had managed to soothe. It had been Harkas who had managed to keep all of them safe on the Steps of Faith, as she had managed to draw Vishap’s attention and therefore managed to keep the horde in the same place while her sisters had set up the final Dragonkiller.

Groups of adventurers were better than a single one, though not every story ended happily. Lahen’s parents and their group had perished, and the Warrior of Light preferred not to think about Edda and everything that had happened afterwards.

“S-Sometimes I wonder… is what we all do… r-right? G-Gan. I… I think I made a horrible mistake… and it’ll h-have… repercussions. Later. Not i-immediately.”

The Lalafell remained quiet, but then suddenly smiled.

“Hey. Everyone makes mistakes, right? Remember how I almost got myself killed while charging head-first into a Magitek Vanguard and got spotted by the searchlights? Everyone makes mistakes, horrible mistakes that could cause a lot more trouble than they’re worth. But it’ll always work out fine in the end. Hydaelyn will make sure of that – I mean I’m pretty sure she made sure that I learned my lesson about blind vengeance for some reason or another. There’s a reason I’m here right now. Just as there’s a reason you made your mistake. It’ll all turn out fine. Fate’s never that cruel.”

* * *

 

The wheels of fate had been brought to a screeching halt by Nemi’s actions, and she was aware of that. Eventually they would start turning again, and she and Haurchefant both quietly waited. They were not quite sure what they waited for as they stared into the snowdrifts ahead of them.

Either way, it was impossible to cross these with the chair and its wheels – they were too high for that. Haurchefant cursed his fate, and Nemi cursed the fact she could not help him.

It had been a week since the others had managed to bring Estinien back. While Lahen currently battled an infected stump of her ear, both Estinien and Ganon had been permitted to leave the infirmary. The Lalafell had taken off with Lorven. Knowing them they were most likely sitting in the Forgotten Knight and bemoaning the infernal cold of Coerthas. Estinien had simply vanished. No one seemed to know where he had gone.

Well, almost no one.

The Au Ra and the chair-bound Elezen were both staring at Aymeric. The lord commander seemed to still be in oddly high spirits. They continued staring at him until Haurchefant finally called out to the man.

“Ah, I had not noticed the two of you there. Is there anything I can help you with?”

“Mhm, there indeed is something you can do. Pray tell, where has the elder Azure Dragoon gone?”

“Ser Alberic? Surely you know he remains in the Central Highlands as always.”

Nemi giggled as Haurchefant rolled his eyes.

“Current Azure Dragoons, lord commander, not past ones.”

“Ah. Well, I most certainly know not where he went. Dragoons are hard to catch, after all.”

The Au Ra had to look away to not burst into loud laughter. The way Haurchefant crossed his arms was too amusing, and even her fairy seemed to be amused by this – it was too funny. Though, she also had to admit, either Aymeric really was clueless or he was an excellent actor. He most likely was the latter, since despite the almost earnest confusion on his face there was a certain edge to his voice that made it all a little too obvious. Her laughter died in her throat however as Haurchefant continued.

“Well, we simply wondered if you needed a little help with those pesky scales of his. There’s quite an interesting characteristic to them.”

“H-Haurchefant!”

Aymeric simply blinked. “Whatever do you mean by that?”

The Elezen in the chair dramatically sighed and shrugged. “Truly, did you think we would not notice? We most certainly were not there when you managed to talk him out of possession –quite a feat, by the way! But there are certain things that simply don’t make sense in that story until you think further about them. Why would you, out of all people from Ishgard, be capable of talking the Azure Dragoon out of this? Apparently not even his best friend and rival managed this feat, yet you did it with little to no issues at all.”

“Yes, and? I am quite sure anyone could have done the same as I did, if they knew the right things to say.”

Haurchefant crossed his arms again, and Nemi raised an eyebrow as she looked at Aymeric. Finally there was a reaction – he was turning lightly pink as his eyes darted from side to side as if looking for a way out. At least he had not realised that Nemi and Haurchefant were both stuck on this side of the snowdrift in the middle of Foundation. Once he realised that, however, he was bound to be on his way as far away as possible, seeing as Haurchefant could not follow him and Nemi was still wearing heavy robes. The lord commander was getting nervous.

“Ah-ha. Thank you, that was very enlightening indeed. I think I understand what happened there. Well, Ser Aymeric, if you ever need any information on how to handle spoken ones with dragon characteristics, feel free to ask. Nemi and I would gladly help you in your conquest.”

“Hey!”

“C-conquest…?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooh, dang, Nier Automata looks so fucking GOOD.
> 
> ALSO:  
> If the person who kept on hugging me yesterday while we were FATE-grinding in Northern Thanalan does read this, I did see you there! I was just in a rather busy party and Machinist is really involving to play on a PS4 controller :v I'd have done somethin back, like an emote or something, but I was the only aoe-dps in that group and therefore on default "grab everything you see and then have the tank take it off you as you continue aoe-ing" duty. And it was Dark Devices, I was more than just thirsty for those exp... since I was level 49.  
> I did see ya! Sorry for not reacting and I hope you got where you wanted to get from FATE-farming!


	11. Im Dunkeln

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are many ways to tread in the dark - some simply can't, and some eventually get a revelation that casts the dark aside.

Accursed mortal flesh. There were many possibilities to switch hosts to, but the Warrior of Light remained the safest choice, even as fever and pain ransacked the body.

This was not what Thia had imagined when she had struck the deal with the girl.

Naturally people with the Echo were protected against Ascians. There was, however, a way to work around that: Earning their trust and having them agree to sharing bodies with an Ascian. Something that, with the right words, could be easily accomplished if the Echo-bearer in question did not know about Ascians or was desperate enough. And the Azure Dragoon had most certainly been desperate enough to accept help by someone who was her mortal enemy by all means. Thia had already seen herself entering Ishgard and finishing what those before her had failed at – bringing the Holy See to its knees. Lahabrea had certainly succeeded in tempting the Archbishop, though the foolish mortal had instead done as he pleased, and Lahabrea had paid the price for telling the mortal secrets he was not supposed to know. Igeyorhm too had paid the price for getting too cocky as the Warriors of Light seemingly had lost their blessing. As Thia had now learned, it had simply been warded off by Midgardsormr, and by breaking down these wards the blessing had returned even stronger. An unforeseen circumstance that had cost Igeyorhm her existence.

But higher-up Ascians tended to get cocky. The lower-end Ascians were bound to the same flesh vessel and would perish alongside the flesh if it were to be killed by someone else. As long as a small amount of aetheric energy was involved a lower-end Ascian would cease to exist as soon as the body died. Higher-up Ascians were not bound by these rules and simply returned after a short while, and they could switch vessels at will. The only way to destroy those for good was, as the Warriors of Light had done, with immense amounts of aetheric energy. So much energy in fact that it was almost humanely impossible to obtain that much energy – in the cases of Nabriales and Igeyorhm the Warriors of Light had help. Nabriales had perished because he had foolishly mortally wounded the scientist who had devised a means to kill Ascians, and she had readily given up her already wasted life for the energy surge needed to destroy him. Igeyorhm had been a victim of circumstance – she had thought herself impossible to defeat with Lahabrea at her side, and when the Warriors of Light had pulled the Eye from their pockets it was clear that she had lost that round for good.

As for Lahabrea, he had been extinguished like a candle, and then scattered to the seven winds as Thordan and the Heaven’s Ward were slain by the Warriors of Light.

Thia had seen several lower-end Ascians serving Lahabrea, Nabriales and Igeyorhm simply cease to exist as their masters were wiped from existence.

Lower-end Ascians were also further linked to their masters after all.

Sometimes it was a blessing she was a middle-grounder. Middle-grounders did not cease to exist when their masters vanished, but they were still bound by several lower-end rules. Thia could change bodies at any given moment if she so willed it, but she would perish alongside the host if they were to be killed with just a little aetheric energy behind the attack.

After a few days the fever settled, and the infernal pain in her ear ceased.

The Warrior of Light could consider herself lucky that after that last outburst Thia had simply wrested control from her. Much like with the other Azure Dragoon and Nidhogg this was now a symbiosis that could not necessarily be broken. Much to Thia’s dismay there had been an actual change in the Warrior of Light’s look – though mercifully it was too small to notice unless someone stared at her for too long. One eye had turned red, as opposed to the intense shade of pink it was before. It was nowhere as drastic as the changes to the other Azure Dragoon, but it could prove to be dangerous after all.

She thanked the medics politely as they told her she was free to leave but should return here as soon as the ear started feeling funny again.

The Holy See. Perhaps now it was time to end the pointless struggle of the City State. And once this struggle was ended and the Holy See abolished and destroyed, there was naught that would stop Garlemald from taking over the territory, therefore leading to the fall of Greater Eorzea.

* * *

 

“Hraesvelgr wishes to speak to thee.”

Nemi had left with this almost ominous message of Midgardsormr ringing in her ears. At first she had planned to go on her own, but surprising approximately no one Haurchefant had insisted she should take him along. Once more on the backs of Black Chocobos, they had made their way through the Western Highlands almost in silence.

Upon reaching the Dravanian Forelands they had noticed that Lahen had said the truth. Snow covered the entire region, and the hunters at Tailfeather complained that this cold was way too dangerous for this place. After being sent off to Anyx Trine with the best wishes, they had realised that this place was simply not meant to be covered in snow. Even the Hivemind Gnath they avoided on the way seemed to suffer under the weather conditions, and Nemi’s heart ached a little when she thought about the Nonmind. She had quite liked this odd little group, but she could not see them withstanding the cold for too long.

Just like Lahen had said, there were hatchlings soaring through the air. Though now they seemed to be less enjoying the cold, but rather were trying to help fix things so it would be less cold inside the tower. Vidofnir barely acknowledged the Warrior of Light and her companion, and the only thing Nemi heard her say was that passage through Mourn and Sohm Al were to be granted to them.

Mourn and Sohm Al were devoid of life. The cavern was warm, almost too warm, and therefore Sohm Al remained the same as it had been before. There was not a single lick of snow in there, and Haurchefant watched as the green gave way to peaks until they finally revealed the Churning Mists. The Churning Mists were currently enveloped in one of the typical thunderstorms. It made the Aery on the far end of this place look more ominous than it already was, and Nemi shuddered when she remembered what had taken place in there. Nidhogg and his brood had been their enemies, and Lahen and Estinien had led the assault with a confidence that only Azure Dragoons had, but at the end of the day they had still slaughtered each and every dragon they encountered on their way to Nidhogg An. That body count had included several hatchlings that were possibly less than 100 years old. 100 years, and 1,000 years were merely the blink of an eye to dragons, after all, and Nemi could not help but wonder if the Dragonsong War would ever cease to be.

Even Shiva and Hraesvelgr’s peace had been fleeting, and most certainly had not reached each member of their races. Maybe not even Midgardsormr could make every dragon in Eorzea understand that Ishgard was not an enemy anymore – maybe there simply was no way to bring both races together as Shiva and Hraesvelgr had hoped. Ser Aymeric and Midgardsormr seemed to be more than willing to attempt bringing peace to spoken ones and dragons once more. Maybe a peace less fuelled by heartfelt sacrifice by star-crossed lovers would bring the desired solution this time.

On their way to Zenith Nemi wondered what the dragon would want from her. Hraesvelgr had been more than unwilling to speak to her and the other Warriors of Light before, and Lahen had admitted that the dragon had not said anything about his reasoning for flying Ysayle into a situation where he knew she would attempt to end her life in heroic sacrifice, not much unlike the real Shiva she had tried to be.

Thunderstorms made the sky sizzle as the two reached the platform, where the dragon already awaited them. His orange eyes glowed as he watched them land.

There were many things Nemi wondered, but she knew that asking even a single of them would not end with her being given the answer she desired. She never got the answers she desired, but there was even less to be expected from this dragon in particular.

* * *

 

Ishgard returned to a familiar state soon. Once more the dragoons idled their time away by observing the city, and helped wherever they could. Only heretics from within were a minor nuisance to the sudden peace and quiet that swept over all of Coerthas and Dravania.

Within that peace it was easy to discern that something was wrong, however. The peace was real, but something about it felt artificial, fake. He could not quite put a finger on it, but as he watched adventurers pass him by it left a strange taste in his mouth. Something was wrong, and whatever it was managed to stay hidden until now. And staying hidden in a city like this was quite hard, unless…

Estinien found that staying invisible was much easier without a mask now – Ishgard was still Ishgard, and half-breeds and bastards were creatures that were either ignored or shunned. At the very least the people seemed to be terrified enough of what looked like a mix between an Au Ra and an Elezen. The only people who did not aggressively ignore him were Au Ra. Mostly because they felt that he was not truly one of them.

This particular trio of Xaela shot him many a confused look as he helped get the snow off the ground and onto a pile. If nothing else, labour helped him get used to being a man rather than a dragon again, much to the dismay of Aymeric. The Lord Commander had insisted Estinien should rest, but the Azure Dragoon had marched out to work without even batting an eyelash at Aymeric's protests.

The Xaela were whispering to each other, their eyes wide and fixed on the man. The dragoon fully knew that he looked like a freak of nature to them, but he tried to ignore it (he did not know they were instead talking about how incredible it was that someone had managed to turn back human after becoming a dragon). After a few minutes he started feeling more and more uncomfortable, until at last he could not stand it anymore and finished his work. He left with still slow steps; he was still not completely used to having only two legs again.

Without a place to go or anything to do the Azure Dragoon strolled up to the Pillars, past the Last Vigil. He saw Stephanivien de Haillenarte and his younger brother Francel speak to Emmanellain de Fortemps on his way, but he knew better than to mingle with sons of the high houses that were not the next in line for succession. Emmanellain especially was infamous for his ability to get into trouble, and after having seen machinists in action Estinien was quite sure that Stephanivien was not someone to be taken lightly. Even the quiet Francel had had his fair share of trouble, and the dragoon found himself snorting as he walked on.

He had no specific direction and stopped once he realised he was in front of the entrance to the Vault. It brought back memories the man could have done without, but before he could mull too much over these the door burst open and someone ran into him.

“Oof.”

Estinien, naturally, did not manage to hold his balance and almost fell down the stairs. His fall was prevented by the person who had run into him; they had grabbed his arm and pulled him back up.

“Ah! I’m terribly sorry; I did not expect anyone to be in front of the door.”

The lack of guards at the sides of the door was suspicious, now that Estinien looked around – and Aymeric looked rather distraught.

“No need to apologise. But say, what were _you_ doing in _there_?” He gestured at the entrance.

Aymeric shook his head. “It would seem someone broke into the Vault. No, not quite as you did, it was stealthy indeed. And several times at that. But whoever that person had been, they managed to alert the guards posted inside tonight by walking straight into a bookshelf and managing to topple it over.”

“So you are searching for clues about the mystery person that managed to break in.”

Aymeric nodded. “Indeed. Sadly there is naught to be found other than the fact they escaped through the window – landing on their feet as if they were a dragoon, and bolting off into the night. The guards lost that person’s trail as soon as they were out of the window. Which leads us all to believe it was a dragoon.”

“… Hum. I really cannot think of anyone who would have business in the Vault. ‘Tis true we dragoons are getting a bit underwhelmed by the lack of duties to attend to, but none would be foolish enough to dare breaking into the Holy See’s Vault, mind. Unless Nidhogg chose a new Azure Dragoon and they assume the Eye is back in its usual resting place.”

“It is not, I assure you. Ishgard has no Eye, and both of them will remain where they are forevermore, undisturbed, until time forgets about them.”

The Lord Commander shook his head slightly before shrugging. Estinien did not press the matter any further – the less he knew about both eyes of Nidhogg, the more peaceful his life would be. Azure Dragoon or not, those eyes meant nothing but trouble.

“You said the person walked straight into a bookshelf? Despite managing to break in undetected?”

“Yes, quite so. Considering the lights are usually out during the night it could have been anyone, really. It is hard to see in the dark.”

It indeed was, but Estinien remained silent. It was hard to see in the dark as Aymeric had said, but unless it was pitch black in there a spoken one would see the outline of a bookshelf. Unless they were cursed with a certain lifestyle – diurnal Seekers of the Sun were almost blind in the night, and it was quite possible they would not see a bookshelf’s outline in the dark of night.

Which led to the question which of the Seekers of the Sun currently in Ishgard had reason to break into the Vault, of all places. It seemed reasonable enough to strike Lhishian Al’nebar off that list – first of all she cared precious little about church or the Vault in general, and the next part of Aymeric’s description most certainly did not fit the Seeker. Lithe she looked, but the woman would trip over her own two feet, meaning it was impossible for her to have managed to jump out of a window, land squarely on her feet and run off into the night.

Only two Seekers in Ishgard fit that description, actually.

Lorven S’ylver and Lahen Al’nebar – one because he was trained in the art of Doman ninjas, and one because she was a trained Azure Dragoon.

The Azure Dragoon felt his heart skip a beat. Of course. Suddenly he knew an answer to a question he had wondered about just a bit earlier.

* * *

 

Zenith during a thunderstorm was simply beautiful. The white stone seemed to glow unnaturally against the dark blue and violet skies and the sizzling made the entire place seem like it was charged with ancient energy. Much to Nemi’s surprise both Hraesvelgr and Midgardsormr were present, albeit she did not get much of what the great wyrms had spoken about. While the Echo automatically translated everything for her, she had only heard the end of the conversation held in Dravanian.

“If thou deem this the right course of action, I shall not interfere. We have been observers ever since ancient times. Remember that, child.”

After that the much smaller dragon turned around, nodded to the Warrior of Light, and then took off to the skies. The same skies that had seen both peace and war between mankind and dragons, and Nemi swallowed as she looked at Hraesvelgr before bowing her head solemnly.

Haurchefant, still on the back of his Chocobo, nervously followed suit – he was still Ishgardian, and no matter how many tales about this dragon and his non-aggressiveness he had heard so far, he still felt uncomfortable around dragons. She took note of that with worry filling her heart. If Ishgardians and dragons really were to find peace amongst each other, it would take several generations of spoken ones before they and their children were comfortable among dragons again.

Hraesvelgr nodded back before he turned his gaze onto the man on the chocobo. Both man and bird made a small frightened noise, with the bird taking a few small steps backwards.

“Hm.”

“…! M-My apologies! I-I would stop this bird if I could, alas I can-cannot stand and hold it still!”

“Worry not, mortal. Neither thou nor your bird will end up eaten on this day. I merely wished to speak to the one chosen by Hydaelyn who hath managed to wrest power from my brother’s eye as someone not versed in how to use it.”

Nemi blinked – was this about what had happened on top of the Vault? She barely remembered these events as was, and she quickly voiced this. The dragon, much to her surprise, only laughed softly.

“Yes, I hath figured that much out. Which lead to many more questions to arise. But there is one thing I figured out from seeing thee and this man, now. Thou put much energy on the line to change a fate which should not have been changed at all. A seal which wrests much of thine ability to heal from thee, as much as it took his ability to walk. It is commendable that no great tragedy has yet struck – for fate hates being cheated on.”

Nemi stopped breathing for a moment. She had noticed that her actual ability to heal was lacking these days, while none of her other senses were dimmed. She had also noticed that Haurchefant’s immobility came from a certain sharp end to the usual flow of aether within his body. But were those two things really related as the dragon had claimed?

“W-What do you mean?”

“Hm. Thou hast cheated fate and death, Warrior of Light. By taking energy from the Eye, as much as thou could hath grabbed back then, thou managed to reassemble fate. There is a reason why many a grand civilisation of mortals fell – they thought they could cheat fate, death even. The worst offenders were the ones of Allag, the ones who slaughtered mine brood brother Bahamut and imprisoned mine brood sister Tiamat. They managed to cheat death and fate, but by doing so they brought insanity amongst their own ranks. The day Allag fell was a day like a bright strike of lightning. They had claimed to understand light and earth fully, yet it were light and the earth that ultimately destroyed them. Thou did offend death and fate like this, but on a much smaller scale, chosen one of Hydaelyn. Therefore both forces managed to lock thee down, at the cost of ceasing for a while. But knowing how this world works, it is almost time for the wheels of fate to start turning again. As both of you should know.”

The Au Ra and the Elezen looked at each other. They knew, they had silently agreed that something was bound to happen. They had even watched Ishgard in quiet desperation.

“Hraesvelgr… You know something we don’t, do you? Please! Please tell us!”

“And permit death and fate to be cheated on again? Nay. There is aught amiss, and thou will understand when the time comes. Mayhap thou will even manage to trick ancient forces again. But there is something else I wished to tell thee. I am not a harbinger of doom, I have never been. But it is indeed related to what will inevitably happen.”

The dragon swung his head around and watched the thunderstorm rage on a little. He seemed to focus on the Aery, far away and yet as all three of them knew without a master, without any life within.

“There is a way to undo the seal and either reclaim thine power, or to give this man his feet once more. Though, thou should know that this will end with something happening on the other side. If thou were to reclaim the power lost, the life saved would flicker out.” Nemi almost fainted right on the spot, and even Haurchefant looked unusually pale and small on top of his chocobo. “If thou give back the ability lost, thou might lose your ability to heal. Or thine life, even. ‘Tis uncertain what will happen. This is the knowledge I wished to impart onto thee, Warrior of Light. Dost as thou pleasest with this information, for I have naught else to tell – other than ‘twould be wise to return to Ishgard post-haste. Teleport if thou must, but I am quite certain fate will not wait for all players to arrive on the centre stage.”

The dragon took off with that, leaving both the Ishgardian and the Lominsan with a strange feeling of dread settled in their stomachs.

* * *

 

Aymeric could scarce believe what Estinien told him. The Azure Dragoon had grabbed the Lord Commander and started pulling him towards Fortemps Manor, where the Warriors of Light currently in Ishgard were. Of course the thought had crossed his mind too – that a Seeker could have been the culprit – but even as much as assuming that one of these two was responsible for this?

“Are you quite certain we should accuse them without any evidence, Estinien?”

“Aymeric, I do loathe saying this, but you are indeed quite foolish sometimes. If both of them are innocent, they are bound to stare at us with their mouths agape or vehemently deny such things happening. It will make sense once we are there, I promise.”

Once they were past the Last Vigil aetherite the sound of someone teleporting there through the city network sounded behind them. They turned around to see Haurchefant de Fortemps and Nemi Sakuya, both pale and with a strange expression on their faces. Upon seeing the Lord Commander and the Azure Dragoon however they both relaxed a little.

“Oh, thank goodness,” the Warrior of Light breathed. “Hraesvelgr sounded so ominous that we had assumed someone was currently being stabbed to death in Ishgard.”

The next person to arrive unexpectedly was the Ala Mhigan adventurer. He looked haunted and almost jumped out of his skin when Nemi called his name.

“Ah! Nemi! Actually, it was you I was looking for… well, you or Lorven. There’s something I gotta tell either of you…”

“Well, we’re both here.” The manor door had opened and the two missing Warriors of Light arrived at the scene. Lorven wore a friendly grin, even as he saw the worried and angry faces of his companions and allies. “What is it?”

Silence. Once more Nemi realised how used people of Ishgard had become to strange meetings like these – only a few nobles shot them a curious glance and then carried on. No one said anything for a few minutes, all of them standing around in an oddly arranged semi-circle. Estinien had not yet let go of Aymeric’s arm, leaving both men in an odd pose. Nemi had her hands dug into the handle on the chair, and Haurchefant was pale as death. Ganon was rather pale as well, but his eyes kept darting around nervously. Lorven looked as relaxed as ever, his tail swishing around calmly; the only thing that betrayed how confused he was were his twitching ears. Half hidden behind the Seeker was the other Warrior of Light, a familiar squint on her face. She always looked like this when a situation confused her too much.

It was Aymeric who broke the silence by clearing his throat. All eyes were now fixed on the Elezen. “Ah. Mayhap it would be best if we went to discuss this somewhere less… public. Seeing as we are at the Last Vigil, perhaps the Vault would be the wisest choice, seeing as it is involved, somehow.”

* * *

 

It was the roof, the place before the airship landing. The snow on top had been diligently moved aside by servants earlier this day, and everyone was quite certain they saw scorch marks in some places. It was, after all, the very place the Warriors of Light had fought Zephirin, a hard-won battle which had then led to the scene at the airship landing on top of the Vault to take place. Aymeric knew for sure that if they were to go there they would find dry bloodstains on the stone, and he shuddered thinking about that.

For now this place would suffice, scorch marks or not.

“Maybe it would be wise to let Ser Ganon here speak first.”

“… I-It really only concerns Lorven and Nemi, though, but… ah, bloody hell…” The Lalafell continued looking around nervously until his eyes finally came to a rest on Lahen’s face. The Miqo’te was still squinting, but her eyes narrowed a tad more upon catching his eyes. “Nothing! Nothing at all, rest assured! It… Echo things, yes. Echo things, only they’d understand and I managed to tell Lahen when we were in the infirmary together.”

A familiar wind howled between the towers and rooves of Ishgard, and all seven of them looked into the air. Clouds, cold and white, and it was bound to start snowing again at any time. They all knew that, whether from experience or from having grown up in Ishgard or the surrounding areas.

A collective sigh escaped all seven of them. Aymeric and Estinien stood shoulder by shoulder, Nemi and Haurchefant were next to each other as well. Ganon seemed to shrink away where he stood, and Lahen still was half hidden behind the much taller Lorven. It was the odd, but not unusual for her to do that, now that Nemi thought about it. She and Lorven had always been close by default, since both of them were Seekers of the Sun.

It was Aymeric who then quickly explained the situation regarding the Vault. Lorven’s eyes widened as the Elezen continued on to the likely suspects he and Estinien had come to, whereas Lahen’s eyes narrowed to slits.

“I… That is quite the accusation, Ser Aymeric… I mean, the reasoning makes sense – I and Lahen both would indeed be helpless enough in the dark to make ourselves known to the guards as you described but… What reason would either of us have to break into the Vault?”

Lahen remained silent, her squint slowly but steadily turning into a quiet snarl with her teeth bared.

“Nothing of value was removed – that is, monetary value. There are several records of history missing. Barely anyone breaking into the Vault would consider these to be more valuable than any of the riches scattered around. History as the grand populace knows it is barely worth anything. Why would the person go after such worthless things when they have literal gold to steal and sell on the black market? How would that person have known where to look for these records in the first place?”

Once more everyone fell silent. Indeed, if the culprit was one of Seekers present it would make sense that they would go after such things. They knew where to find them, Nemi realised – Lorven and Lahen had both been in the Vault before, Lorven on several occasions.

“Furthermore, there are several Seeker adventurers and even citizens around. Yet none of them would quite fit the window situation. Lady Al’nebar would not make leaps like these, and one of the Seeker adventurers currently residing in Ishgard is a crafter, not a fighter. She, too, would not make leaps like these. In fact, not a single Seeker other than the two Warriors of Light could and would dare jumping out of a window with reckless abandon. The fact that the guards lost sight of them immediately afterwards means that they moved fast after landing too – a ninja can land perfectly on their feet and break into a run, and dragoons are specifically trained in this art. Albeit Lahen is much of an autodidact when it comes to her skill, she was trained by Ser Alberic, therefore she should have this technique down.”

Neither one of the Seekers said anything. Lorven’s mouth was slightly agape, and Lahen let out a silent hiss as she retreated behind his back.

“Lies and slander,” was the quiet hiss that followed after a minute, and Lorven looked over his shoulder. “What kind of fool would jump out of a godsdamned window?”

“She… she does have a p—“Nemi began, only to be interrupted by Estinien.

“Ah, ah, ah. Could you repeat yourself, please, Al’nebar? For all of us to hear? I am quite afraid that these drat scales make it hard for me to hear.”

The Seeker peeked out from behind Lorven and sighed.

“I said, what kind of fool would jump out of a godsdamned window?”

Aymeric breathed in sharply, and Estinien started grinning. Even Haurchefant raised a hand to his mouth – the three adventurers looked rather clueless by now.

“Ah. Yes, thank you _very_ much. What kind of fool would jump, you ask? Well, there is a tower in Ishgard dedicated to learning exactly that. I quite vividly remember a certain Miqo’te challenging me to a contest between the two of us. The one who could jump up the highest on these narrow windowsill-like contraptions on said tower would be the winner of this contest. Furthermore, it is not unusual for dragoons to jump out of windows – if Ishgard were under attack right now I can promise you the dragoons currently in towers or houses higher up in the city would open a window and jump out of it.”

The Miqo’te blinked. “So? Say I did indeed break in, walk into a bookshelf like a tool and then open the nearest window just to simply jump out of it once I heard guards approaching. You accuse me, yet you have no evidence.”

Aymeric looked at Estinien – he too had wondered that, and the dragoon merely shrugged. There was something about that grin that became outright demonic-looking thanks to the blood red limbal rings. The amusement in his eyes faded and turned into something a little more macabre.

_“Wouldst thou look upon thine kind with eyes unclouded, thou would realise…?”_

“… The hell does that even mean?” The Miqo’te looked confused.

“Just as I thought. There you have your evidence, whoever you are. The Azure Dragoon would remember these words, because it is what Nidhogg tormented her with while we were passing Mourn. ‘Wouldst thou look upon thine kind with eyes unclouded, thou would realise that thine odyssey is pointless, for thine actions are naught but seasons. Mayhap a change thou might manage, but thou will inevitably succumb to the ever recurring cycle of mortal life and death, rendering your sacrifice and trials naught.’ She repeated these words many a time even after we passed Mourn, and most certainly spoke these as we felled Nidhogg together. That, and telling him to ‘stuff his nonsense maw’.”

Estinien crossed his arms as he seemed to impale Lahen with his glare. For a long moment not a single person moved, until at last Lahen let out a long, exasperated sigh. She shrugged behind Lorven and finally stopped hiding behind him – the other Warrior of Light took a few steps away from her.

“Seriously? This is how you figure it out? By reciting something Nidhogg uttered? Truly, I can understand why they were so keen on destroying this nest.” It was Lahen’s voice, but there was a strange pitch to it all of a sudden. The gesturing and her whole stance seemed different too – Lahen normally stood slightly slouched forwards, but right now she stood straight as a bolt. Even the odd tail-movement that came from trying to copy her father’s, an Au Ra’s tail movement suddenly ceased. It now looked as if she had been raised by Miqo’te, a fluid movement not unlike the one Lorven had.

Nemi and Lorven looked at each other – this situation was familiar. Too familiar almost. For a second it felt as if they were at Castrum Centri again and attempted to escape with the Scions, until at last they were approached by a familiar face. But said familiar face was horridly twisted all of a sudden. The shared corner of their mind flashed back to Thancred as he had been when he had been naught but a puppet doing to Lahabrea’s bidding.

“… Wait. Wait, wait, wait, that can’t be!” Lorven shook his head. “The Echo protects us!”

“Heh. Indeed it does – against hostile takeover.” Lahen shrugged once more, the grin on her face widening. “If the Echo-bearer however agrees to it out of their own free will, why should their own blessing not permit what they want? The Echo is selective, but it can be controlled. Something that you Scions, you Warriors of Light all too willingly avoid as to not become what I am. Your friend here was rather willing, though. She benefitted from this as much as I did, whether you choose to believe me or not.”

Ganon clenched his fists – he too had caught on what happened there. Only the Elezen seemed confused now, though all three of them fully understood it was not Lahen speaking. Estinien still had his arms crossed. Aymeric’s gaze darted from Lahen to the other adventurers and back again. Haurchefant remained completely unmoving until a breathless “Oh!” escaped him. Everyone slowly turned to look at him as if they were unwilling to leave the grinning Miqo’te out of their eyes for too long.

“An Ascian, correct?”

“Mhm. Correct. Good job! I had no clue the Warriors of Light taught useless bastards this – maybe one day you’ll be more than two plus a handful uninvolved adventurers and an assorted following of people so easily taken over or forced into serving a Primal until death releases them!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I... uh... got bitten by the writing bug, probably curtesy of my FC mates discussing writing with me for ages before I went offline... I'd say I'm sorry for churning out and dumping like 10k words in 2 days but... I really am not. It helped me realise that the "3 more chapters" estimate was correct.


	12. Sieben Tage Regenwetter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seven days of rain, but can the rain do anything about this?
> 
> Chapter title curtesy of one of the heads of the program I'm enrolled in. Always nice being told you look like that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i apologise for how shoddy this is, probably. its not spellchecked whatsoever, and to be quite honest this writers block ive had for a while now didnt make this easier. ive rewritten the beginning a million times and just rolled with the last incarnation yesterday. ugh im sorry.

_The three of them glare at each other. The oldest, the Seeker of the Sun thaumaturge, has a strange look of exasperation on his face. In the dim light of the cave his gold eye almost seems to glow. The middle one, the Lalafell arcanist who will much later be revealed to be an Au Ra under aetherial glamour, has her arms crossed. Her lower lip quivers a little. The youngest, a Seeker of the Sun archer, throws her hands up in the air and lets out a frustrated scream._

_“This is pointless! You idiots led us in a circle! We gotta apprehend this pirate captain before we can get out of this slimy-ass cave! Yet all you do is waste time!”_

_“How about you stop complaining and instead lead us in the right direction if you know everything?” Though Nemi does not know this man, she nods along. “If you truly know where he is, Gridanian envoy, then pray tell us where he is so we can get out of here.”_

_“Listen, Ul’dahn envoy, I ain’t got a darned clue where the hell that slimy bastard went! How about you glare at the Lominsan envoy instead of me, anyway? She’s as much at fault here as I and you are!”_

_It would be hilarious in hindsight that a fight breaks out among them now. They yell and screech, and the Gridanian archer even drags her fingernails down the Ul’dahn thaumaturge’s face._

* * *

 

It seemed surreal. The last time they had been here the sun had shone. Well, as much as it could shine during sunset. It had been pleasantly warm for post-Calamity Ishgard, yet all that had happened in this place was bloodshed. Unnecessary bloodshed. Time had come to a crawl, just as it had back when the Warriors of Light had arrived at this place. If anyone dared moving there would probably be another painfully bright arc traced through the air, the sound of a shield shattering. The sound of someone choking on blood.

Nemi curled her hands into fists.

That grinning harpy over there did not look like the same Miqo’te she got to know ever since the day they had gotten lost in Sastasha together. Normally the youngest Warrior of Light grinned in delight, or whenever she had proceeded to insult someone in a way she thought clever. To most normal Eorzeans her Ishgardian approach to things was strange, so even her insults usually came back around to being kind of weird. This grin however was nothing like anything before. A strange, alien look on the very same face Nemi had been to hell and back with.

“… So, any name we should call you by?” Lorven’s voice was quiet – he was still standing the closest to this… thing. “Considering you know ours well enough to have at least tried to keep yourself undetected.”

“You people are so obsessed with names. Thia.”

“Hm. Very well. You said Lahen agreed to this?” If nothing else, Nemi admired his ability to stay calm. No one else would possibly be able to remain level-headed enough to talk to this grotesque mockery of a Warrior of Light.

“She indeed did. Blessing and Echo or not, an agreement is an agreement. Not even Hydaelyn could do anything about this.”

“Yes, you said as much already. The question I wanted to ask was… Why would you be here?”

Thia – Lahen – shrugged and sighed dramatically. She looked way too amused by this entire situation, a confidence that was not unlike the Miqo’te underneath the Ascian. She did, however, not answer. Now that Nemi looked at Lorven, the male Seeker seemed to be trembling slightly.

Ever since their arrival in Ishgard the Seekers had clung together. It was only after taking down Thordan that Lahen had started withdrawing, after all. Most likely Lorven felt like this entire situation was his fault for not insisting he stayed around Lahen, although he and every other person knew that there was a reason for this situation. Fate hated being cheated on, as Hraesvelgr had said only a few hours ago. Therefore it had chosen a new path to inevitably lead to a situation where the impossible became possible – men became demons, and now Warriors of Light Ascians.

Nemi shared a strange look with Lorven and Ganon. Both men were as aware of their surroundings as she was, a strange hyperfocus not unlike the trance she had fallen into back when she had saved Haurchefant’s life and when she and her fellow Warriors of Light had challenged Thordan. She had never really figured out if this sudden enhancement of her senses came from the Echo or the Blessing of Light, but it was more than welcome in every battle against Ascians and Primals. Right now she however wished that it wasn’t like that – it seemed wrong to have this triggered by Lahen of all people.

“My, my. I had thought that the famous Warriors of Light would do a little more than stand around frozen in fear. Have I attempted to kill any of you?”

“…” Neither Nemi nor Lorven said anything.

“Yes, exactly. As long as I do not do anything foolish or rash as Nabriales did, or as long as I do not sic Primals onto you as Igeyorhm did, or even challenge you personally as Lahabrea did, is there really a reason to attack? This is hypothetically speaking, and we are not taking your friend here into consideration. I promise you she is as unharmed as she can be. She merely rests. Harr.”

* * *

_It is this exact moment that the three of them stop being a bickering pile and instead focus on the task at hand. Before this moment they usually end up fighting, often with actual brawls taking place. Especially the two Seekers are way too eager to attempt to maul each other, although there is a hilarious imbalance between them. The Archer seems to be way too strong and energetic to be a simple archer, and the thaumaturge is a tall but weak man, like many mages._

_Against Ifrit however they stop their fighting. Lorven as someone from Sagolii naturally knows much more about this Primal than the other two, but his face merely turns a little ashen for a second. Nemi, too, has had a lot to do with Beast Tribes and their Primals, since she grew up in Limsa Lominsa and all. Leviathan is a constant looming threat, and Titan, too, is something that could always appear. Though they do not know, Lahen has no clue what is happening right now. Ishgard bothered more with dragons than beast tribes and Primals, and this is the first time she sees something like this happening. The Ixal never summoned Garuda in her short life before, so this is the first time she sees and hears about Primals._

_All three of them notice that the enthrallment seems to have passed them by. Maybe this is too daring a plan, but they stick their heads together. They decide that they would rather die than become a slave to a Primal, and that going down fighting is much better than sitting here and crying._

_It’s the first time they actively work together not out of necessity, but because they desire so. Before they had only made it out of Sastasha, the Copperbell Mines and the Tam-Tara Deepcroft due to eventually being able to take down bosses while still fighting among one another. Now that they face this aetheric being they manage to not immediately argue. Of course they disagree on the general tactic – all three of them are not made to take hits to the face. Eventually they agree on Lahen taking the front and using her arrows to keep Ifrit’s attention on her until he either makes her his thrall, or until they manage to get out alive._

_“Poking big bads with arrows wasn’t what I signed up for at the guild, but sure, why not,” she mumbles and looks over at the Primal._

_Lorven is to shower Ifrit in spells, to possibly rend his own body asunder by calling unto all energy reserves he had. He doesn’t say anything but only nods slowly._

_And Nemi herself is to take the rear with her Carbuncle. She agreed to be the healer, something that she had always been interested prior to this point._

_None of them know that this will be their tactic for years to come. Although the archer becomes a dragoon and the thaumaturge a ninja, their tactics remains the same. Lahen charges in, weapon in hand and keeps the attention of their enemies on herself. Lorven follows after her and does most of the heavy lifting with knives and even small spells. And Nemi remains in the back, with her fairy at her side and keeps an eye out for any injuries that could shatter their tactic._

* * *

 

It was a split second they did not keep their eyes on the Ascian. Lahen herself had always been unpredictable due to her almost boundless energy – the dragoon had always been rather hard to keep track of, and she was stubborn enough to make sure she got what she wanted. The adventurers and Haurchefant had looked at one another for a moment, and Aymeric and Estinien at each other.

This had been enough time for the Ascian to make her move. She was fast, and closed the little distance between her and Lorven in a single bound. As the ninja, caught off-guard, stumbled forwards a little she was already moving back into her prior position.

This time, however, she was armed – one of Lorven’s trusty knives. That grin she wore was infuriating; infuriating enough that Nemi only now noticed that Lahen had been the only one completely unarmed. Where had her spear disappeared to? Nemi was just thankful that Lahen was not versed in how to fight with daggers like that. The oldest Warrior of Light, now short one dagger, went pale however. Lorven seemed to be completely unable to wrap his head around this situation, something that happened rather rarely to the otherwise focused young man.

“Mhm-hm. Look at all of you, standing in perfect pairs.” The Ascian almost sounded a little disappointed. “Exactly that is the reason she agreed to this in the first place; she wanted you all to stand like this again. Like clucking chicken, but happy. Without that dragoon-gone-wrong the group wasn’t complete and therefore you all were miserable. She most of all, but mostly because she failed at her job. My, that fury boiling deep within her for having failed to stop the dragon for good was such good soil for doubt and fear, and therefore allowed this situation to grow and eventually fester.”

“… Ah.” Estinien may have made a sound of slight surprise, but the Azure Dragoon looked wholly unimpressed where he stood. Apparently he had put one and one together. “Focused too much on defeating the voice in the back of your head, did you, Al’nebar? To get rid of that, to erase your mistake as well as mine, you would have accepted the help of the Twelve if they so offered – or the help of an Ascian. ‘Tis but a tragedy the Twelve were not the ones to offer you help first.”

The Miqo’te threw the dagger into the air and sighed, which prompted Ganon to finally start moving again. He took a small step backwards, not taking his eyes off the other adventurer as she caught the dagger again.

“ _That’s_ the mistake she was talking about…”

“Ahaha, oh yes, quite indeed. Too bad she was already way too late when she placed that quiet, desperate plea for help in your hands. If anything, it made it much easier to snuff her down.”

Finally people started moving. Before there had been an air of disbelief and a refusal to move, but now people thawed. Aymeric shook his head and put a hand on the handle of his sword, followed by Estinien light-handedly grabbing his spear and twirling it for a moment before settling into a defensive stance. Ganon, too, curled his hands into fists – he may have not been carrying his weapons around due to having been crafting all morning, but he was still a monk and could easily punch the lights out of someone with his bare fists. Nemi stepped in front of Haurchefant, book open and scribbled an incomplete spell into it; she would only need to finish that scribble and immediately be able to fight. Lorven was the only one who moved sluggishly, almost dropping his one remaining dagger, before putting it back into its sheath. He merely groaned quietly and shrugged helplessly, which the rest ignored.

“Drawing weapons on someone who hasn’t attacked nor had any plans of attacking?”

“If you had really planned that then you would not have taken a weapon at the first opportunity you had.” Aymeric’s voice was cool.

“Hm. Seems like the Lord Commander takes after the father he so readily had ordered slaughtered. Patricide is a crime, is it not?”

“It is a crime to lie to the general public, only to turn on the people by becoming an immeasurable threat, all while plotting to murder several people – several people who have done more than one favour to Ishgard, asking for naught but shelter in return. Besides,” Aymeric looked at the ground. “I did not order anyone slain. Ordering the Warriors of Light around would be foolish, even moreso after I realised that even if they apprehended my father or the Heaven’s Ward, there was the risk of them getting killed while trying not to cause any losses. Justice by bringing them before the Fury’s judgement in Ishgard was out of the question, and I do believe She did speak through the Warriors of Light that day. Any other accusation by other parties I will accept and see that they understand, but you, as Ascian, should fully well know what happened that day, seeing as you possess one of the players present.”

No reply other than a shrug – Nemi held her breath. If anyone managed to tick this Ascian off they would have to face her, and since she was in the body of Lahen that meant facing the younger Azure Dragoon. So far none of the people present had managed beating her with the exception of Aymeric and Haurchefant; the Lord Commander had never fought her in the first place, whereas Haurchefant was simply not capable of doing so at this point in time. Estinien, she knew, would most likely lose, although he looked plenty prepared to. Lorven and Lahen never fought in earnest, the two Seekers often brawling and accidentally injuring each other but never intending to kill each other. Ganon and Lahen were sparring partners whenever they ran into each other in Eorzea, the monk stronger than but not as durable as the dragoon.

Although, Nemi realised, the sheer quantity of trained warriors could most likely overwhelm the Ascian. And even if she were to flee using jumps from one roof to another, Estinien could easily keep up with her.

“Possess? No.” The Ascian closed her eyes, only to snap them open a moment later, with a wide grin spread across her face. “Willing or unwilling, after a certain amount of time two become one. What made it possible for you to separate Lahabrea and that friend of yours was not only the Blessing, but also the fact that there was the resolute refusal by both parties to merge into the same being. Defeating one generally means the stronger gets to be the dominant one – something that Nidhogg has tried, only to be beaten down by the Azure Dragoon.”

Estinien’s lance quivered for a second, and the man bit his lip.

“That is an unwilling pair merging, and as you can see it had consequences for your dear friend. He is neither man nor dragon, stuck somewhere in-between.” The Miqo’te’s remaining ear twitched in amusement, the wide grin thinning down to an amused smile. “I do quite wonder if he feels like he lacks several limbs. I, personally, feel well in this body, seeing as it was a willing fusion and all. Although I quite do miss the floating – tell me, dragoon, what is it like to lack wings?”

No one dared moving again, all eyes slowly and nervously wandering towards the Azure Dragoon. Estinien was breathing loudly through his nose, fury blazing in his eyes. The limbal rings seemed to swirl, the blood red standing out like a wolf among sheep.

“It must be relieving to know you at least still have a dragon’s eyes.”

Nemi’s heart skipped a beat, and Estinien stopped breathing entirely for a few seconds. They had all wondered where the Eyes of Nidhogg had gone, but they had not expected that kind of answer.

“It is interesting how the dragon bleeds through and makes the man look like a freak of nature.”

A low growl escaped the dragoon, and everyone shot a silent prayer to whomever of the Twelve they believed in – but it was for naught. Before anyone could react or say anything, the elder Azure Dragoon dashed forwards. It were the same and familiar movements that Nemi had seen a million times before; Lahen moved exactly the same. The Miqo’te sidestepped the attack, but Estinien reacted almost immediately, swinging the spear around and spinning around on his heel, jabbing the weapon through fabric and taking another step forwards.

Nemi had closed her eyes the moment Estinien had spun around, and she could hear the disgustingly familiar sound of a weapon tearing through cloth and flesh.

“… Gn.”

The scholar opened her eyes again, only to see Estinien stumble backwards a little, his lance now in the hands of the younger dragoon. Lorven’s dagger was now stuck in the Elezen’s shoulder.

“Really now. That is the great Azure Dragoon, the only human to manage subduing a dragon that had already taken over his body and mind? What a disappointment – I had thought you would be more of a challenge. Alas, humans really are just pathetic at the end of the day.” She shook her head. “Ahaha! This isn’t what I wanted at all!”

* * *

 

_They’re past the stage of being a miserable pile sticking to one another. Alphinaud and Tataru are still kind of withdrawn, but plenty determined to keep on going against the odds. Nemi wonders what keeps Lahen in Camp Dragonhead, seeing as she could go to her parents’ house or to Ishgard as she pleases, but the scholar is not one to complain. Camp Dragonhead and the makeshift “Falling Snows”, as Haurchefant calls it, are starting to feel homely after a few weeks._

_It’s a day without snowfall for once, and Nemi has been up for quite a while. She agreed to help out in the infirmary, which is in dire need of the help after a Dravanian attack. Several Temple Knights are dead, many wounded. She helped there all morning, and even though she always loved healing there is a certain kind of dread looming around her. She doesn’t notice Haurchefant until he walks into him, tumbling to the ground with a small squeak. He helps her up with one of his usual smiles, although he looks more exhausted than usual. He probably had to take care of a lot of paperwork and such during the night, after such an attack._

_“Careful. You’re the only healer with the Warriors of Light, and I do not particularly want to be responsible for your death by boxing you into the ground.”_

_“N-No, I wouldn’t die from that… And besides, Lahen can heal just as well if she can focus for once…”_

_“And how likely do you suppose that is? I quite certainly recall a woman named Al’nebar boxing her way through several dragoons just to physically assault the Azure Dragoon the other day.”_

_“I wouldn’t call her sucker-punching him in the guts and kicking his shoulder a ‘physical attack’… It’s more her usual shenanigans… Although she did pay for that by almost breaking her hands.”_

_They both laugh, but it is interrupted by a sudden rumbling noise._

_“What on earth…”_

_Nemi looks around, but does not see anyone other than Haurchefant out here. She casts a quick glance into the sky – being in Coerthas for so long makes her understand why the youngest Warrior of Light always cast nervous glances into the sky whenever she thought no one was watching her. The disguise of half-Seeker-half-Keeper from Gridania had always been paper-thin to begin with, but many odd quirks made more sense now that Nemi knew Ishgardians and Coerthans other than Lahen. Haurchefant, too, had shot a look into the sky but then stares at the path to the intercessory with a raised eyebrow. They look at each other, nod quickly, and then almost casually stroll over to the intercessory._

_Haurchefant opens the door carefully, only to immediately grab Nemi and dropping them to the ground. He barely manages to avoid a bottle being thrown at them, and said bottle shatters against the wall of the other building. A screech follows, and the sound of a chair toppling over. Nemi peeks inside, only to see a strange tangle of limbs roll around on the floor inside the intercessory. The screeching turns into howling laughter, and the ball, having left wreckage behind, untangles – it reveals Lahen and Lorven, both now lying on the floor and laughing breathlessly._

_Haurchefant and Nemi get up and enter the intercessory for real. Most of the bottles stored inside are broken, the chairs are miraculously still in one piece, and most of the things inside have been turned and toppled over. Both Miqo’te now stand up and smoothen down their clothes._

_“May I ask what you—“_

_“I promise I’ll make up for that.” Lahen interrupts Haurchefant much to Nemi’s surprise. “I will pay for everything broken, and I will make sure that everything looks as it did earlier.”_

_The day carries on as usual, with Lahen and Lorven fixing up the intercessory. Even Alphinaud and Tataru sound surprised when they’re told of today’s events._

_In the evening Nemi goes to pick up her friends, only to find Lahen had already left after finishing up to visit her parents for the first time in a year. Only Lorven remains, dusting the table off a little as a finishing touch._

_“Will you tell me what happened between the two of you?” Nemi asks, closing the door._

_“Mhm. Nothing, we just brawled as usual. We got carried away.”_

* * *

 

Lorven is the first to move again. He almost casually walked over to the still seething Estinien, grabbed the handle of the dagger and looked at Nemi. She nodded back, fully understanding what he intended to do and raised her book again – the almost finished scribble could easily be changed to a healing spell. A heartbeat of silence, and the ninja pulled. Estinien hissed through clenched teeth and Nemi quickly finished the scribble.

Her spells were weaker than usual, but as the magic knit flesh back together it at least stopped bleeding. That was a good sign.

Everyone had their weapons drawn and the whole situation looked like it was about to explode, much like back when they had come back from the Aery.

It was Lorven, once more, who made the first move. He walked over to the Ascian, which caused her to take a few steps backwards, with terror on her face.

“Don’t!”

Lorven stopped his advance. Nemi felt a sharp pain shoot through her head, as it usually did when the barriers around the Blessing of Light were broken down one by one. Lorven, too, raised a hand to his temples.

“Oh, Fury, oh, I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry! I thought I could control it, I really thought I could!”

The female Miqo’te covered her face with her hands and sobbed hysterically as she backed away more and more – towards the airship landing.

“Lahen, stop.” How did Lorven manage to sound so calm? The stumbling Warrior of Light stopped. “You made a mistake, then?”

“The worst I c-could have made…”

“So you made one mistake and things went out of control. Is there a way we can undo this? There has to be one…”

“T-There… isn’t… It’s like she said… I’m not… Thancred and Lahabrea.” She dropped her hands and looked at the other Warrior of Light – as if no one else existed right now. “Put an end to this, I beg you.”

“… How?”

Nemi walked up to stand beside Lorven, with weak protest coming from Haurchefant. Ganon was perfectly frozen in his place with an unreadable expression on his face. Aymeric was currently forcing Estinien to sit down while shooting nervous glances behind him.

Lahen still had the spear in her hands, holding onto it as if it were a lifeline.

“Kill me, before she comes back to hurt any more of you.”

Nemi shook her head. “… Lahen.”

“I’m serious! If she hurts you, or Ganon, I… I don’t know if I could even… Or _Lorven_ …” She breathed in sharply. “If you won’t, I’ll…”

The scholar shot a quick sideways glance at the ninja. He hadn’t even breathed since Lahen had offered her solution to the issue on hand. The Seeker seemed to be completely out of it for the time being, and he only breathed in quietly after a few more seconds. His ears lay flat, and even though the other eye was still bandaged, the gold one was completely blank. He had spaced out.

“But if we do that, the Ascian will just come back, won’t she…”

“No.” Lorven’s voice was completely flat. “If I remember Urianger’s words correctly, there’s differences between levels of Ascians. Considering that Lahen is not a dead body this Ascian has to be either middle-ground of higher-up. If she were higher-up, do you really suppose she would have felt the need to arm herself? Higher-up’s don’t die from their hosts being killed, we saw that happening with Lahabrea. But if the middle-grounder dies along with their host, then arming herself to avoid getting killed…”

“We can’t do that, Lorven!”

The Seeker did not reply anything, but instead turned to stare at the dragoon. His eyes were fixed on the earring she was wearing – the other had been lost along with her ear.

“We have to, Nemi.”

“No!”

“Do you want an Ascian using Lahen just as she pleases?”

“No…”

“And even, by the off-chance that this is a higher-up Ascian, we’ll scare her off enough to retreat for a while, just as Lahabrea did.”

“Lorven…”

The oldest Warrior of Light shrugged. “Lahen.”

“Please… just… before she…”

Without warning, Lorven dashed forwards. Nemi didn’t even have time to properly react, she only watched as he broke into a sprint. Much like Estinien before him, Lorven intended to attack head on. In the last possible moment he sidestepped the spear suddenly swung at him. Lahen stumbled, apparently fighting with her body over what to do now. The Ascian wanted to attack, and the Warrior of Light did absolutely not want anything like this. It was a pathetic sight to behold, the formerly confident woman now struggling like she was holding a lance for the first time in her life.

This wasn’t a fight, at all. Lorven only had to kick Estinien’s lance out of Lahen’s hands, and the dragoon was completely unarmed and unable to do anything.

“Lorven!”


	13. Wind

It were the same Xaela sisters as the ones from the other day. Three of them, standing around in Foundation, watching as a band of machinists marched past them. Estinien felt a little uneasy again, but he had to go through here to meet the medic he was supposed to report to. The three adventurers once more looked over at him, and he narrowed his eyes a little.

Much to his surprise, one of the three walked up to him. She looked quite uneasy for a second, but then smiled.

“We wanted to apologise for chasing you off the other day.” Her accent indicated she was perfectly Eorzean. “After thinking about it we came to realise that we probably made you feel pretty bad about the way you look.”

Estinien shrugged.

“But in reality there’s no such thing. We weren’t discussing anything relating to your look – we were talking to each other about how impressive it was that a person of Ishgard managed to reverse turning into a dragon. The aftermath of that might not look pretty to any Ishgardians around, but we were honestly just somewhat impressed.”

“Well, gotta admit, I was laughing,” one of the two in the background shot in, only to get whacked on the head with a bow.

“Quiet, Harkas!”

The one who had approached him now looked uneasy. “I… I must apologise for my sister… Cerri, you can stop hitting her on the head!”

Something about those names was strange. He felt like he had heard them before as he watched oldest sister return to the other two. Probably the Warriors of Light had mentioned those three before, he assumed, as he walked slowly towards the place he was supposed to meet the medic. He had forgotten those three had been involved with Operation Archon way back in the day, and had had their hands in helping taking down Primals left and right. Adventurers with the Echo.

Estinien pinched the bridge of his nose. Since this day in the Vault his head had been aching; a familiar and frightening thing. It was the headache he always got when Nidhogg was doing something, but he knew that the dragon was safely subdued for now. This headache was most likely related to the fact that there wasn’t a second Azure Dragoon anymore.

* * *

 

Three days, and they had come to a decision. Although he had vehemently refused it before, Nemi had to admit that this was the solution she would have preferred. If it killed her it didn’t really matter, seeing as there was already one link missing. Haurchefant looked less than thrilled that morning, but he followed her to Providence Point with nary a word.

“It’s funny, actually. Upon reading up on this, it turns out that this is a bastardisation of Aetherial Reversal.”

“Is it, now…” It were the first words he spoke, and Nemi closed her eyes.

“Kind of. To think we had the solution since the very beginning…”

Both fell silent and watched the snow fall, with Ishgard in the background. The Central Highlands were stunningly beautiful, Nemi realised with a sudden ache in her heart. There was something magical about the snow, although it had not always been like that, if stories were to be believed. Coerthas without snow… maybe one day, if she lived long enough, she would be able to see that. But right now it was a question of whether she would survive this or not, as Hraesvelgr had been rather ominous about the effects of what she was about to do.

Either her power – or her life.

Naturally Haurchefant frowned when she opened her eyes again.

“I would not mind sitting in this thing all my life, really… Just…”

The Au Ra smiled. She had made her peace with this decision, and all that could possibly happen afterwards. If she were to die she had asked Haurchefant to take her Soul Crystal to Alphinaud; it would in safe hands with the young arcanist. He had voiced an interest in the art of healing several times when they stayed at Camp Dragonhead, and he had actually begun to study it recently. Even if she lost her power, the scholars of Nym would not die out once more. Without her power she could still pass on the theory to Alphinaud, and watch his progress.

It was a simple thing. She only had to reach for the aether around her, much like she had done out of desperation back when she had broken the wheels of fate. Now that they were back in place it was easy to reach for this link she had forged. She heard the wind rise around her, and felt her senses dimming down – it was using up her aetheric talent like it was a glass of water in the desert. But Nemi pressed on, reaching for this link, and when she managed to put her hands around it, she snapped it in half. The very same second her sight blacked out, and for a split moment panic rose.

She had made her peace with this decision, but she wasn’t completely prepared after all. The same darkness that was left in the mental link where Lahen had once been seemed to surround her now.

* * *

 

It was snowing. He remembered the first time he’d been here, almost half frozen to begin with, only to immediately set out for Falcon’s Nest. Adventurers were a strange sight to behold in the city of Ishgard, but most of them were related to the Warriors of Light somehow, he noticed. Estinien Wyrmblood was almost casually chatting with three Au Ra – Ganon recognised those as the Xaela sisters. Ever since the Steps of faith those three had seemingly vanished from the planet, and now they were here. Reisui laughed at something Estinien said, to which he replied with a nervous grin, and in the background Cerridwen was whacking her bow against Harkas’ armoured chest. Typical Xaela trio, Ganon noted with a small grin. The three were always sociable, although he was surprised that their victim of choice was the Azure Dragoon.

He walked around Foundation only to run into another familiar face – Nenela. The Lalafell looked crestfallen, and the fact she had come from the Steps of Faith implied that she had gone to visit the graveyard. She was also missing the hilariously shoddy accessory she had worn ever since the day they had fought Leviathan. After she had successfully calmed Lahen down from the Miqo’te’s fear of water, the Warrior of Light had thanked her fellow adventurer by making her some kind of hideous headpiece that resembled a feather. It usually fell apart after a few weeks, but Nenela always went out of her way to find the Warrior of Light and they fixed it together. A token of their friendship – and now that she wasn’t wearing it, Ganon knew that she had gone to give it back to the Warrior of Light.

They nodded at each other, Nenela’s face lighting up upon seeing a familiar face. Instead of a greeting or small-talk they simply carried on; nothing they could have said to each other would have changed the situation and their feelings about it.

More familiar faces, most of them from adventuring times, popped up. He overheard two Elezen arguing over something in the distance, although he knew these two were only playing around – a dragoon and a summoner, but Ganon did not remember their names at the time being. He met Furiosa at the Brume, where she was discussing something with Hilda, the Elezen and the half-Elezen intently focused on something that looked like scorch marks. Apparently someone had vandalised one of the recently rebuilt buildings.

At some point Ganon almost expected to run into the Warriors of Light. Normally they travelled as a group, the three of them sticking together glue. Naturally no such thing happened, and he sighed. It didn’t seem like the Mothercrystal to let this happen.

His stroll through Ishgard was accompanied not only by familiar faces or the lack thereof, there was also a strange headache hammering away at his insides. It felt like something was forcing its way into his head, and something else wanted to get out, but he tried to ignore it for the most part.

He stopped in front of the Vault. The Ala Mhigan had only vaguely heard what had happened in this place, and now an actual death had to be added to the list. He scowled.

In the same moment he felt someone approaching from behind and turned around – Lorven.

The Miqo’te looked like he had not slept a single hour since three days ago. The circle under his normally bright eye (seeing as the other was still bandaged) was an ugly shade of dark purple, and his hair was messy. Actually, it was much shorter than before.

“You… cut your hair?” Ganon asked, lacking anything else to say.

“Mhm. It had gotten way too long, anyway. But that’s not why I came here.”

Ganon licked his lips and stared at the building in front of them. Lorven, too, sighed and threw a quick glance at the Vault before shaking his head.

“Tell me, Ganon, have you been having a headache ever since… Have you been having a headache since the day after we got rid of the Ascian?”

“… How’d you guess?”

“… This has to be a sick joke…” The Seeker closed his eye and screwed up his face. The way he curled his fists together in suppressed anger made the Lalafell worry for a second. “Why would Hydaelyn mess around like this…”

Ganon cleared his throat. “Mess around how?”

“… What’s causing this headache is the fact she apparently decided to immediately replace… … You’re filling her spot.”

“…?”

“You’ve been chosen as replacement f-for…”

The Seeker didn’t manage to finish his sentence, as he turned around briskly – quite obviously to hide the fact he was about to start crying. Ganon felt his heart sink; he understood what the Miqo’te was trying to say here. Before Lorven left, he shrugged with a defeated sigh.

“Welcome on board, chosen one of Hydaelyn. Guess I should call you Warrior of Light now. Nemi and I’ll give you an instruction once she’s back from the Central Highlands.”

With that, the Miqo’te left, shoulders slumped and almost falling down the stairs as he shook.

Ganon almost wished that Lahen would burst out from behind a statue now, tackle her fellow Warrior of Light down the stairs and end all of that with screeching laughter. But of course no such thing would happen now, and Ganon remained standing still and thinking about how cruel fate had been to Lorven until night fell.

* * *

 

Haurchefant returned in the evening on the fourth day, slowly shoving the door open. Everyone in the room immediately fell silent and watched as he carefully entered the room with unsteady steps. Alphinaud looked around, slight horror creeping onto his face when he noticed the Au Ra scholar was nowhere to be seen.

“Where’s—“

The door opened again, and Nemi entered equally unsteady. On her face was a small but bright smile, and she stepped forward to help Haurchefant stand straight.

“It will take a few weeks, maybe, but he should be back to his old form in no time.” Even her voice seemed to echo that smile on her face, and Haurchefant let out a small laugh. “Thankfully I did not pay for this with my life, as Hraesvelgr predicted.”

“He did what?” came the question from Artoirel, but everyone ignored the future head of House Fortemps. Right now Tataru stormed forward and stopped before Nemi, almost bursting into tears of relief. Yda and Y’shtola looked at each other, equally relieved, with an amused chirp from the Sylph. Lorven, somewhere in the back, nodded slowly, while Ganon gave Nemi a thumbs-up. However, Alphinaud couldn’t find himself to be as relieved as that, and he waited until most people were gone – the only ones left were Ganon, brooding over a map of Eorzea at the table, Lorven, staring out of the window with a blank face, and Nemi and Haurchefant, although those two had to sit down.

“Nemi,” he began, drawing the attention of all people in the room except for Lorven. “I… did it happen as you told me and Ser Aymeric that it might happen?”

The Lominsan looked up at the Sharlayan, her expression unreadable. She then reached into her bag, withdrawing a small stone that seemed to simmer with energy.

“A Soul Crystal, carrying the words of ancient Nymian scholars. It contains their wisdom, their power, even most of their stories if you reach deep enough. I wonder if I left my marks on this stone as well, but my time as its bearer has passed – the price to undo the seal I placed was indeed my ability to use magic, just as Hraesvelgr has said. While I know you lack the Echo, meaning you will be unable to follow into battles against Primals, I would be much more reassured if I knew that there was someone capable of healing. Y’shtola does an excellent job, mind you, but you most definitely show promise as an arcanist, and I feel like it is my duty to hand you this. Although I no longer can cast spells, I can still see you receive proper training to one day be called a proper scholar as by the ancient ways of Nym. I hope this day comes, Alphinaud.”

She handed him the stone, and Alphinaud realised with a sudden pang of guilt that he hadn’t just been handed a Soul Crystal – he had been handed essentially the broken dreams of the Warrior of Light as well, since she had aspired to be one of the best healers Eorzea had ever seen. Her desire to protect her friends had indeed protected a single person, and cost another their life. The Elezen looked at the Au Ra, surprised by her smile.

“Was that… was that really… worth it?” he asked.

“Was creating the Crystal Braves really worth it?” He flinched slightly at those words, but she put a hand on his shoulder. “We cannot change what has been done, Alphinaud. The future, however, might not be as firmly set in stone as many of us believe; seeing that I managed to cheat fate and death both. Was desperately reaching out to all skill I had and to the Eye worth it? If I had not, Haurchefant would not be here. How would that have changed this situation? Probably much more than you would think it could have.”

The Sharlayan, normally quick to answer, was at a loss for words.

“It would not have changed the fact that there was a rogue Ascian trying to get into Ishgard. It would not have changed the fates of Estinien and Ysayle, although I do wonder if it would have changed Nidhogg’s approach to the situation. I cannot say I regret doing as I have done.”

Haurchefant beside her looked up and at the other Warrior of Light in the room. Lorven had been clenching his jaw the entire time, and finally the Miqo’te turned around, stomping out of the room. Alphinaud raised a hand to ask him to stop, but Haurchefant shook his head.

“He needs time.”

Ganon, finally looking up from his map, snorted. “As do we all. You need time to learn how to walk again. Master Leveilleur here needs time to learn how to be a scholar. I need time to come to terms with the fact that I apparently got promoted from Echo-bearer to Blessing-bearer. The Azure Dragoon needs time to recover completely, and Nemi needs time to learn another trade, since she cannot heal anymore.”

Nemi nodded.

“Maybe I’ll learn how to wield a bow…?”

* * *

 

The fifth day started with a blizzard howling through the city. People barricaded their windows, and there was not a single soul in the streets. At midday it stopped as suddenly as it had begun, and the streets started to fill again. The air seemed charged somehow, most likely telling that there was more snow to come, but Ishgardians were long since used to the effects of this.

No one paid this particular man slowly walking through the streets much mind. He looked like the average merchant, with his entire body covered in a thick coat with a hood that hid his face. The only thing odd about him was that he was not a Hyur, Elezen or Au Ra, the three usual races of Ishgard. He hurried onwards, his fingers clamped around a small bag. He almost stormed across the Steps of Faith, strangely on-foot despite one of the Chocobo Keepers calling out to him that he could take his own Chocobo.

Eventually he reached his destination. There were no people here at all, and even though the sun had broken through the clouds it felt desolate and dark. Between Whitebrim Front and Camp Dragonhead, and without any Dravanians darkening the sky it was finally a safe place to be.

His throat constricted when he saw a small feather-like accessory leaning against the small stone. He had not thought that Nenela was in the city, or that she had heard of this already. Then again the Lalafell had always been one of the first people to learn of things without being actively being contacted – it probably came with having grown up on Ul’dah’s streets. He wiped a little snow off the strange creation. There were many nicks and many a scratch in it, but he almost immediately remembered how she had viciously insisted that she could do this on her own. She had never been skilled at the finer arts to begin with, but the fact that she had finished this remained. Ugly as it was, it was still a testament to how much she had appreciated the Lalafell’s help back when she had been ridden by panic at the sheer thought of boarding a ship.

He reached into the bag. It was a harp, worn from having been used many times despite not being in the hands of a bard. He put it next to the worn accessory, his hands lingering on it a little. It felt wrong to leave it out here, but there was simply no other place to put it, seeing as there was no one who would use a harp that worn. The next thing he procured from the bag were the tip of an apparently ornate spear, and a knife.

They had found Lahen’s spear broken into pieces and half-burnt somewhere in Fortemps Manor. It explained why the Ascian had lacked a weapon, though it also raised the question why the Ascian had destroyed it in the first place – or maybe it had been Lahen herself, to prevent the Ascian from being fully armed. Whichever it was, neither Thia nor Lahen would be able to answer that question now.

Lorven had seen to that. After disarming the other Warrior of Light they had looked at each other for a long moment, and he had not heard Nemi call out to him at all. There was a silent plea in the dragoon’s eyes, and he did as she asked him to – he put an end to it. Put an end to her.

He had always abhorred killing, but there was something straight up making him wish he could have avoided this. He killed when necessary, all of them did, but using a weapon against one of his closest companions felt wrong.

He closed his eyes while putting the tip of the spear on the ground, but he was not able to let go of the knife. He clutched it while his eye burned despite being closed, and he took in a sharp breath.

He was ripped out of this weird place between screaming in agony and weeping in pain by a hand being placed on shoulder. He snapped open his eyes, only to look into a painfully familiar face. It took him a few seconds to realise that his senses were not playing tricks on him – this face belonged to an older person, and now that he looked at it the orange and pink eyes were opposite than Lahen’s.

“What are you doing out here all by your lonesome, Tia?” The voice was barely more than a gentle, almost motherly whisper, and he couldn’t help but hiccup. “You should not withdraw like that.”

“I… know.”

The female Miqo’te looked at the small, unimpressive grave and then let her gaze wander to two more that were much older. She sighed a little before crouching down to be eye-to-eye with Lorven.

“You still have your friends in Ishgard. Life goes on, even if such things happen. I could barely believe when Sang and Nhex were slaughtered, and I was numb for months. But I had to carry on, for little Lahen’s sake – the girl had lost her parents and had no way of surviving on her own. And although Sengun tried his best, he was still a dragoon and had duties to attend; and he, too, could die out there with little to no prior warning. Life went on.”

Lorven let out a croaking sound, and Lhishian Al’nebar shook her head in reply.

“The pain never really fades, but you learn to live with it, Tia. Sometimes I do wonder where Sang and Nhex would be if they were alive, but we cannot undo the past. I cannot change the fact that Ixal decided that these adventurers had to die due to not being Ishgardian and therefore were on the same level as Gridanians. I should be thankful that they were not tempered, and that the beast tribe knew a small child cannot survive on its own out there in the cold.”

“Don’t you… hate me?” he murmured.

“Hate you? Why?”

“I… I took the life of your niece… of your _daughter_. It was me who rammed the weapon into her chest, who carried her out of the Vault. I… I _murdered_ her. Shouldn’t you hate me for that?”

Lhishian blinked. She had indeed considered hating him, but it seemed to be such a cliché thing to do. Instead she had tried seeing deeper into this situation, and when her daughter’s belongings had been brought to her she realised something very important. Something that Lahen had failed to mention to her parents, and it had almost driven her mad. It had been Sengun who had suggested trying to find the other involved party.

“Could I really hate the person she loved?”

Lorven’s eye widened. “You… what?”

“Your friend with the fairy may have been a little slow to realise those things, but Lord Haurchefant quickly understood what was going on. One day Lahen wears simple bronze cuffs, the next day ornate blossom earrings are in the place the cuffs were. The fact that Lahen immediately proposed that she would replace things was also something that she would not have done were she right in her mind. What on earth could make her lose her focus so much she actually pays to replace broken bottles and a supple stash of expensive alcohol out of her own pockets?”

The adventurer screwed up his face into a strange mixture of horror, grief and confusion.

“I only realised when they brought her belongings. Lahen had always been a scatterbrain, so she usually lost things easily. But right with her belongings were this earring and a small note saying nothing but ‘remember your oath, for you placed it before Her’ in her handwriting. Now, she was never much of a church-goer. Why should she suddenly make oaths under the watchful eyes of the Fury? Someone had given her these earrings as a promise. Lord Haurchefant mentioned that you and Lahen had caused quite the ruckus at Camp Dragonhead that one day when you were hiding there, and it was the one thing that made the puzzle complete. You and her… Tia, did you…?”

“Yes... I… I made those… for her…”

He remembered that day vividly, how he had spent all morning trying to even find the other Seeker. Since Nemi had been out helping in the infirmary she was most likely going to avoid looking for them, and Lorven took it as the opening he needed to catch Lahen on her own. Much to his surprise she had been in the intercessory all on her lonesome, her gaze fixed on the chair that Aymeric had sat in during their meetings. As soon as she heard him she had turned around, her usual grin on her lips.

“I did indeed intend to… to…”

Despite having spent all morning trying to figure out how to properly get this business rolling he lacked the words now. Much to his surprise Lahen had only laughed slightly before waving her hand through the air, calling him an airhead who could not spit anything out. Before he had even managed to say a single word she had said she intended to accept, although this was most certainly not the time to be thinking about these things. And then she had tackled him, as she usually did after calling him an airhead. It hadn’t even been their intention to break anything or this actually turning into one of their playful brawls, but it had ended as it had, with Lahen hurling a bottle at Haurchefant of all people.

Lorven let out a dry sob as the first tear rolled down his face. He had not managed to cry yet, but when he saw Lhishian reach into a pocket only to withdraw the one remaining earring, something within him finally snapped. His dry sobs turned into a wail a few moments later, and he dropped to his knees while cursing the Twelve for this injustice. He was still clutching the dagger that had ended whatever intentions he had for the future, although his hands were long since numb from cold. The woman opposite him looked a little startled for a moment, but pulled him into a hug a few seconds later. Finally he let go of the dagger as Lhishian tried to comfort him.

“I’m sorry! I’m _sorry_!”

“Shsh. It’s okay… Lorven.”

* * *

 

Winter was over. The days started getting longer again, and the snowfall got less common and less intense overall. It did not get much warmer, but Nemi could almost smell the scent of Gridania in spring carried by the breeze across the Central Highlands. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the wind until crunching steps behind her reminded her of where she was. With a smile she turned around and looked at her companions.

It was an odd group, she realised, but she did not mind at all.

Ganon had gotten used to suddenly being the Warrior of Light. Apparently most of Eorzea immediately assumed he had always been with them, while the lack of a second Miqo’te was barely acknowledged. While Ganon had accepted this with an angry growl it had taken quite some time to get used to, but the Ala Mhigan monk looked prepared and confident now.

Alphinaud was still trying to learn how to properly be a scholar, but he was doing surprisingly well. He had somehow managed to summon both a Carbuncle and Lily at the same time, a skill that would come in handy down the road. The fairy looked somewhat offended by the Carbuncle, but the small creature just smugly looked at the fairy. It was somewhat like watching two petty housecats fight, and it was always amusing.

Lorven had retained permanent eye-damage thanks to the medics screwing something up during the healing process. The Miqo’te had taken it with dignity, joking about how the original Warriors of Light were now two one-eyed and grizzled war heroes, much to the distaste of Estinien. The only thing that had changed was the bright pink earring safely attached to his top. A memento he would carry until the day he died, he had vowed, a reminder of how easily things could go wrong. Maybe it was a bit morbid in Nemi’s opinion, but it was his way of coping.

Haurchefant stood straight and proud as ever before, towering over all of the adventurers. He had gotten a replacement shield from his father the moment he had taken up training again, and it was a small miracle that the man was now standing here, ready to charge head first into battle. He shot Nemi a warm smile, and she returned it with a slight blush creeping onto her face.

“A-are we all ready, then?”

Lorven snorted instead of answering, Alphinaud laughed too. It was Haurchefant who instead answered for the group. “Would we be here, in travelling clothes and with our weapons ready if we were not, dearest?”

“Ooh, cut the dearest crap.” Ganon rolled his eyes. “Out there there ain’t no dearests and darlings, you two lovebirds. We’re charging into war, in case you guys have forgotten.”

“I-I knew that!” Nemi almost squeaked this, immediately turning a deeper shade of red in embarrassment. “We’re bound to run into those Warriors of Darkness out there while helping with the charge on Ala Mhigo. The Garlean forces might be one of our lesser problems…!”

Lorven snorted again. “With Yda and Thancred out there, what do we have to fear? Although I do fear he might choose to flirt instead of attack if Y’shtola lets him out of her sight for too long.”

The group laughed a little, and then turned to leave Camp Dragonhead.

“I cannot believe all of you… huff… would rush off to war without even saying a single word about your… huff… departure.”

They turned back around almost guiltily, only to see Ser Aymeric standing there half-toppled over while trying to catch his breath. He was still recovering from a few injuries, the most notable one having been a particularly nasty stabbing wound that had almost cost him his life. How they had managed to beat down an uprising within Ishgard’s walls was beyond them, yet they had done it. Naturally while led by the Lord Commander, although they had almost had to drag him out of there. The victory had been attributed to the Lord Commander and his tireless desire to save Ishgard, and even the most vehement opposition had crumpled when he had almost died trying to save the city from former heretics that had teamed up with Garlean forces and a lower Ascian.

Another person jogged onto the clearing, though he was not out of breath at all – he was laughing.

“Halone, I had no idea he could run that fast.” Estinien held out his arm for Aymeric to hold onto, and the odd pair stood there looking at the strange group opposite them. “Although it would have been much better if certain people had stayed in bed. But, no matter, you got out and ran here. I sincerely hope you are in pain.”

“Oh… worry not… I am…”

Both grimaced at each other before once more turning to look at the other group again.

“The Ishgardian… forces will join the Eorzean Alliance at their earliest convenience… please forward that to the other… leaders.”

Nemi nodded at Aymeric, and the Elezen smiled a little.

“Although they might take a little longer than you. Maybe not more than a day or three, but they will most certainly take longer. They will be on time for the assault, mind, but we do think that the others might be interested in that. And seeing as our Lord Commander is incapable of fighting, Lucia and I will join in his stead.”

Nemi blinked in surprise – Lucia she had expected, but Estinien? She would gladly fight alongside the Azure Dragoon, but the fact he would come along still surprised her. He had always worried about ways his appearance would upset people, and how being reacted to with dislike would cause Nidhogg to stir, but no such thing had ever happened.

“Anyway, that’s all we wanted to tell you. It is about high time you left, or else Lord Artoirel might come here as well.”

Haurchefant laughed at the thought of the current head of House Fortemps shirking his duty to come see his half-brother off, but they all knew that this was indeed a thing that could happen. So instead of saying any goodbyes they simply nodded to the Azure Dragoon and the Lord Commander of Ishgard, and went on their way.

* * *

 

The day they left together was a warm and pleasant one, especially by post-Calamity Coerthan standards.

They were short one person, but the Scions of the Seventh Dawn were determined to see this battle through to its end. And after all the fighting stopped, Nemi realised, she would love nothing more than returning to Ishgard again. This time not as captive, but as person who could call the Holy See its home – with Haurchefant at her side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again, this was not spellchecked whatsoever.
> 
> sponsored by the nier soundtrack for qualified shitness.  
> oh and its snowing here.


End file.
